#and then not fuck up the recipe which alright i baked that thing before. ONCE. AND IT ALMOST WAS A DISASTER.

[porcelainfreak-zacrucian]

Fucking hell I am going to have A WEEK

[zorilleerrant]

Alright let's break this down. (I picked Doctor Fate.)

Batman would be asked to bring either soup or dessert, because those can be so bad or so good, and they know he's going to Alfred for it, and no one wants to pass up Alfred's cooking, especially if it's something fancy for a party.

Superman likewise. They want Ma Kent's pies and Pa Kent's mashed potatoes! Here they're going to ask him for whatever other people can't cover, because he can bring a delicious version of anything they're missing, and they'll love it.

Wonder Woman definitely has her own ideas. Like there is definitely some specific dish or set of dishes from Themiscyra that she thinks of as perfect for the potluck. It doesn't even matter whether other people like it (I assume they do, but think of it as either seasonally off or not quite matching the holiday). She already had this set out before they gave out assignments and took herself off the list, and she's a good cook so they let her.

Green Lantern is assigned the green beans 100% of the time no matter which one because everyone thinks it's funny.

Flash is either in charge of the turkey (so they can make him carve it), under the assumption he's not making it himself but getting it from somewhere, or he's in charge of the salad, because they know he'll put something interesting in there (like pears or something) but he can't do too much damage.

Green Arrow is in charge of the cranberries. No one knows why but he has a fantastic family recipe, and it's a food he's never once fucked up. Everyone loves it.

Black Canary makes the sweet potatoes. They're really normal sweet potatoes, but that's better, because otherwise there's bloodshed over what specific things to add. She doesn't like mashed sweet potatoes that much, even, so she brings baked sweet potatoes, too. Those are more interesting and people fight over them, so a fight still breaks out anyway. But they're good.

Captain Marvel seems like he would want to help out and every time they've cooked with him it worked fine and he was pretty good at it? So if they'd been cooking together somewhere they would've given him a big job. But he keeps freaking out when they ask him to bring anything, and then freaking out more when they say don't worry about it, or worse, just assign him napkins. He wants to be helpful! So they ask him to bring the cups and/or ice which he seems satisfied with. He doesn't seem to know where to get drinks.

Martian Manhunter is NOT someone they want in charge of any of the cooking. His tastes are too weird compared to everyone else. However, he's extremely successful even with overly complicated tasks, so he takes everyone's specific drink orders along with the more expected array of sodas, cider, sparkling juice, and beer. He isn't confused by it, and gives Cap a look.

Aquaman is bringing the fish, obviously. He does a lovely assortment of roasted fish dishes, which is helpful when most of the turkey inevitably ends up being inedible. He also has a fantastic seaweed salad that everyone argues is on theme just so they get to eat it. He also has chowder, just to fuck with them.

Zatanna is in charge of stuffing. This is because she's magic. Every single member of the Justice League has extremely particular ideas of what stuffing should be, and a lot of them don't even share the same base ingredients, so you know what will fix that? She's just going to make them with magic. That's it. Now everyone gets their (frankly sometimes bizarre) individual vision of what stuffing should be, just for them. She doesn't make any for herself. Zatanna hates stuffing. She makes herself garlic bread.

Doctor Fate... well, listen, there's no way they can even be sure he'll remember to show up. If he does, he'll bring something that was food, over the course of the universe, or will be food some day because all food starts from a single seed soaking up the sun or some bullshit like that. They don't want to give him anything vital. They don't want to give him anything at all. But he's a member of the team and he's their friend, and they want to make him feel included, so, you know, he can bring napkins.

[wheredafandomat]

Space travel

A/N: omg I was so high the other day and wrote this half asleep 🤣 I’ve not even read it, let’s read together

“What did you put in these? They taste so good.” You hummed in content, sinking your teeth into another one of Lokis tasty brownies. Who knew Loki could bake? Sitting down, he gave you a proud smile as he rested his palms on this lap.

“We’ll—” he began as you listened eagerly. After being left practically homeless during the transition from first year to second, you offered Loki a room in your studio which he happily accepted. He paid the rent, overpaid the bills and also helped with the food shop yet he never thought that was enough. After hearing about how much you loved the chocolaty snack, he researched a recipe and got to work whilst you was studying in the library. “I followed the recipe but the only thing I didn’t have was unsalted butter so I used your butter, I hope that’s alright with you.”

“Oh sure.” You dismissed, picking up another brownie, they were so good.”

“Although I must admit your choice of butter was rather strange? Was it organic?” He questioned leaving you confused.

“Huh?”

“It was green.” He laughed causing your relaxed expression to harden in panic.

“Green? What do you mean by green?”

“Green, had a funny smell to it too.” He chuckled.

Dropping the brownie, your eyes rounded as you sprinted to the fridge as Loki ate a brownie, not caring about your actions. Tearing open the door, you audibly gasped when you realised that the tub of cannabutter you had had been halved.

“Loki this—these—ohmygod.” You reeled causing Loki to panic.

“What’s wrong.”

“Don’t eat anymore of that brownie.” You warned.

“What, why, what’s going on?”

“That butter was special.” You began.

“Special? Special how?”

“Loki it was medicated.” You implied.

“Mediwhat?”

“Weed Loki weed!” You exclaimed.

“Oh, as in the pla—”

“Yes Loki the plant.”

“Norns.”

“We’re so screwed.” You mumbled.

“What do we do? I can’t be high—I-I’ve never-my virginity.” He panicked, eyes rounding.

“Nothing we can do, we can just ride the wave—wait, your virginity?”

“I’ve never been ‘high’ my highginity.”

After explaining the affects to Loki, you both decided to head to the store for snacks. You told him he’d crave garbage but he didn’t believe you but agreed to come with you anyways considering it had been over half an hour and he felt nothing. He was convinced he wouldn’t feel a thing and for a while you both didn’t until you got to the confectionary isle.

“Loki, look at that.” You tittered, pointing to the animal on the Cheetos packet. “It’s a fucking cheeto on a skateboard.” You laughed. “Loki?” You questioned when you spotted him staring intently at a packet of blue heat takis.”

“Strangely I feel a connection to these. I feel like I’m made of blue ice and that looks like blue ice.” He said, pointing to the packet before you flashed him the packet of Cheetos. “That’s funny.” He laughed, completely forgetting his ridiculous remark.

“With it’s big sunglasses.” You giggled.

“Mr cool.” Loki joked.

“Let’s pay.” You suggested after trying to put the packet into the basket for at least three minutes. Your hand wasn’t opening to let it out. Stupid hand. Once you both neared the counter, you stopped walking.

“Y/n.” Loki called. “Yy/nnnnn.”

“Bitch I can’t see.” You panicked.

“What?” Your eyes are open.”

“I just said I can’t walk.”

“You just said you can’t talk, why are you talking?” He questioned confused before he froze. “I can’t move.”

“Excuse me sir?” The cashier spoke.

“I can’t move.” Loki answered. Gesturing to his legs.

“Your arms moved.” You shouted before laughing. “You’re so tall so your arms are long.” You continued laughing before gasping realising you were in your kitchen whilst Loki sat at the kitchen stool munching on Cheetos. “What happen?”

“You’ve been standing staring into space since we got back from market.”

“The market?”

“No, just market.”

“Oh.”

“I think at the count of three we should say what we want to do okay.” Loki suggested before counting down.

“Kareo—”

“Sleep tog-reoke!” You laughed off, agreeing with Loki.”

“I love to sing” he smiled “I feel like in a parallel universe I was a little choir boy in some sort of mythical world like in the sky.”

“Like a cherub, smol and cute.”

“Yes! Like a cherub.” He agreed.

“Wait, do you believe in parallel worlds?” You gasped.

“YES!” He exclaimed.”

“Ohmygod. Same!” You grinned. After the half an hour long conversation about parallel universes, you somehow ended laying horizontally over Lokis bed as his back rested against the headboard, his legs settling above your body as his slightly elevated ankles dangled off of the edge, he was so tall.

“I want to tell you a secret but promise not to tell.” He made your swear. “I like someone.”

“Wow, who?” You asked, only numb because of the affect of the brownie. Not under the influence, it would have stung to hear Loki admit that. You had a slight crush on him.”

“A girl. Very pretty.”

That hurt a little.

“Her name is y/n.” He finished.

How coincidental you thought. Your name was also y/n.

[ppersonna]

half baked - pjm | m

baby we two distant strangers. i know you don't speak my language, but I love the way she's talking to me - love talk, wayv

↳ summary- park jimin gets a job at your bakery, and you can’t help but find yourself annoyingly attracted to the cocky man.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- park jimin x reader

↳ word count- 5.2k

↳ genre- smut, fluff

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, lightly dom!jimin, sub!reader, slight enemies2lovers, sex in a kitchen, please god don’t fuck in a kitchen its a health code violation, spanking, nipple play, cum play, fingering

↳ a/n- ahHH!HHHHhhh!H! i blame this 100% on @wwilloww​ for merely putting the idea in my head and i had to take it and run with it.  also thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ my babe/my loml for the amazing banner! i truly do not deserve u but ily so much.  and thank you to @chimoona​ @ladyartemesia​ @xjoonchildx​ @taetaewonderland​ for being the best mf squad a lady could have and beta-ing this for me! i love you all so much! i hope you enjoy silly cocky jimin!

 Two cups of flour, one and three quarters cup sugar, 2 cups of butter.

You know the recipes by heart.  In fact, one might postulate that the recipes themselves are the sole contents of your heart.  

You live and breathe baking. It is your solace and your truest love.

Which is why it is all nearly thrown into catastrophe when Park Jimin comes into the picture.

It starts on a rather busy day.  You’re hard at work in the kitchen, prepping the finished products and presenting them in neat little boxes, when your best friend and co-owner of Wake ‘N Bake, Willow, lets out a frustrated squeal..  You turn your head to find her covered head to toe in flour, making you snort as she shoots you a playfully ominous glare.

“Shut up,” she sniffs as she attempts to pat some fine dust off of her, to no avail. “I only have two hands and about fifty things to do with them at the same time.”

Your lips part to reply something equally sassy when the bell over the front door rings, notifying you of a paying customer.  Grabbing a towel, you quickly wipe off cookie debris and throw it at your best friend to do her best to clean off as she follows behind you.

You pause as you take stock of who stands there. A handsome man arrives at the cash register and peers around, presumably looking for an employee.  He is gorgeous—ethereal even and looks like someone who walked out of the pages of a magazine. His bone structure screams model, and you can’t help but feel the stirrings of desire for the beautiful stranger.

“Hi! Welcome to Wake ‘N Bake!” Willow sings cheerfully, despite being coated in baking flour.

The man eyes her with a glint of humor in his eye, and Willow’s cheeks turn a hue of pink when she remembers her current appearance.

“Hi,” he speaks. His voice is smooth like butter, and gentle. It makes you feel weak, like you’re warming in the very ovens that your pastries rise in.

“I saw your shop from down the street and I had to stop in. Your desserts look amazing.  Is the owner here by chance?”

Your smile fades as he looks around the room for someone else, someone beyond you and your best friend.

Of course.

No one believes that two young women could start and maintain their own business. Everyone assumes that some older, well-off man was at the helm while you and Willow toil for minimum wage.

Your arms cross over your body in clear displeasure.

“We are the owners.”

“Oh!”  The man looks surprised but not put off. “Awesome. I was hoping I could… talk to you about, err—… a job?”

His face is sheepish and Willow nearly coos at the sight.

Unfortunately, it appears you and your best friend have warring ideas.

“Yes!” She chimes at the same moment you dead-pan a resounding ‘No’.

Your heads spin to stare at each other—Willow’s eyes wide in disbelief and yours in annoyance.

“We need the help!” She huffs.

“We can do things on our own, like we always have,” you remind her.

Willow gestures to her flour covered clothing in desperation.

“We clearly could use help with how successful we have gotten!”

To your chagrin, she has a point. It might be nice to have someone to help in the front while the two of you manage the kitchen in the back.  It would increase your productivity by double what you’re able to do now.

But there’s something about his attitude coming in that rubs you the wrong way.  Like, he’s too pretty. Too confident. Too nice.

“What’s your baking experience?” You ask as you turn back to the hopelessly lost, yet ever eager man.

“Oh, err—,” he stutters. “I worked at my friend Jin’s restaurant. That served desserts, too?”

You shake your head in disdain while Willow claps her hands in excitement, a puff of white flour dust pluming into the air.

“Perfect! So you could do sales!?”

“Yeah! I can do sales, no problem.”

You turn your gaze back to Willow who stares at the man like he is her knight in shining armor.

“Willow?! Can I talk to you in the back?”

She knows that tone—the one that tells her you’re not pleased with her decisions. She nods once and politely excuses the both of you from the man before heading back towards the kitchen.

“What in the world is wrong with you?!” She asks the moment the swinging door closed.

“Me?!” You’re incredulous—hands flying in the air. “You’re over here trying to hire the first Joey Hot-Lips who walks in off the street!”

Willow’s anguished face falls and turns into a devilish smirk as she leans back on her heels.

“Aha! You’re attracted to him,” she notes as if she figured out the world's greatest mystery. “That’s why you don’t want him here.”

“What? No!” Your defense crumbles around you. “Did you hear him? He totally acted like he didn’t believe we could be the owners!”

“Oh, come on, that was a simple mistake and you know it!  You’re just being protective.”

You ‘humph’ a non-committal response—unable to argue.

You are protective of your bakery. It’s your combined love child with Willow. What started as a dream between cocktails with your best friend became a real brick and mortar reality.  You had been through enough trying to open it you can’t help but feel skeptical of anyone trying to get involved. Many tried to discredit your ability to maintain such a successful shop, and you’d rather continue to run it with no one else than see it fall at the hands of another.

“Just as I thought,” Willow hums. “In that case, he’s hired!”

You’re given no chance to reply—the flour-covered girl pushes through the swinging doors and announces to the handsome man that he’s hired and free to start the following day.

“Great!  Thanks!” His smile is sincere—blinding and breathtaking, and you hate how much you want to see that smile again.

He leaves as quickly as he arrived, waving goodbye as he exits the chiming door.

“Now, you need to deal with whatever issues you have about letting others into the shop,” she says pointedly, pushing a finger into your arm gently. “And whatever issues you have with wanting to bone him.”

“Willow!” You gasp. “I do not want to bone him!”

“Sure, babe. You think you can fool me but I know you too well. Just try not to fuck him in the kitchen, alright? I don’t need the health inspector up our ass.”

The next early morning starts at 4:30 am, with you elbow deep in cookie dough for a catering order.  You’ve nearly forgotten about the new employee starting until the man himself strolls into the back kitchen as if he’s worked there for years.

“Hey!” He says cheerfully, two cups of coffee in his hands. “I got you a coffee. Willow said you’re a nightmare without some in the morning.”

Your eyes narrow at the man. It’s unfair how delicious he looked so early; while you look like a frizzy mess who rolled out of bed and walked into work (which you did), he looked polished and crisp and clean. It’s infuriating as much as it’s glaringly attractive.

“Thanks,” you mutter as you pick cookie dough off your hands and pull off your plastic sanitary gloves. “Every girl loves hearing she’s a nightmare.”

He chuckles behind his steaming cup and places yours on the workbench next to you.

“Those were her words, of course. I’d never call you a nightmare.”

You easily flush, then chastise yourself for allowing him to make you feel so weak so early in the morning.

“To be fair,” he continues. “I don’t even know your name.”

“___,” you sigh as you grab the coffee and bring it to your lips. “And you?”

“Jimin. Park Jimin.”

The first sip of coffee is like a soothing hug. He somehow knew how you took your coffee—two creams and two sugars.

“I didn’t know how you liked it, so I just guessed.”

“Good guess.”

Jimin smirks and looks proud of his accomplishment.

“You seem like the type of girl who likes balance to her sweetness.”

You stare at him curiously over your own steaming paper cup, unsure of what to make of his comment.

“Good morning to the love of my life!” Comes the voice of your best friend entering through the back door.

You roll your eyes in amusement as she teeters in, peppy and perky as she always is this early.

“Oh! Hi, Jimin.”  Her cheeks turn a familiar shade of rose as she realizes he heard her. “I didn’t know you were here yet.  That’s just a… thing we say to each other every morning.”

“Cute.” Jimin smirks at you, making your stomach lift with unwanted butterflies. “Where do you want me?”

Underneath you, beside you, above you, any possibly way...

You shake your head quickly to push away the sexual thoughts of the gorgeous man taking you from any position. No, you refuse to let your mind wander there.

Willow finishes washing her hands and putting on her apron before she nods to the fridge.

“If you can get the milk, eggs, and butter out, we’ll use you for creaming.”

Your cheeks heat impossibly as Jimin smirks even wider.

“Oh, I’m fantastic at creaming.”

Your hands pause from where they massage dough while you close your eyes and breathe, before lifting to glare at your best friend who wears a faux-innocent look.

“I’m sure you are, Jimin,” she chimes virtuously, before getting to work.

The next few weeks were a haze. You’re so caught up with graduations, birthdays, weddings and major events that your time spent at the shop overtakes your time sleeping, breathing, existing in any way that isn’t baking.

Even Jimin was busy.  Despite your initial hesitancy, he was proving to be an excellent third member of your team.  He’s a pro at sales—you’re sure his good looks and the mostly female clientele helps—and he pitches in in the kitchen without fail. He even tries his hand at decorating cakes, with only one frosting-based spill.  You would never give Willow the satisfaction of telling her outright, but she made an excellent decision in hiring the dazzling man.

But it doesn’t stop your annoying heart from fluttering every time he comes close to you—rubs elbows as he helps you roll out dough or smiles at you from across the workbench as he stamps out sugar cookies.  You refuse to allow yourself any thoughts on what it would taste like to lick dough off his fingers or how he would look bending you over the countertop to take you from behind.

You only allow such thoughts at night, safely tucked into bed with your vibrator cranked to the highest setting.

It doesn’t help that Jimin solidifies himself in your life by introducing his handsome and dopey best friend Jungkook to your gorgeous and clumsy best friend Willow.  The moment they laid eyes on each other, you knew you were doomed to have Jimin in your life with or without the bakery.

And you weren’t sure how to handle that notion.

Was Jimin flirting with you simply because you were there?  He seemed to have no problem flirting with the customers.  Sure, the shop has never made more money than when Jimin works his charms and seduces women of all ages to buy the extra cookies, cannolis, and cakes—not that you watched or glared or hated every second. No, of course not. It was for the good of your business and the angry jealousy demon inside you would need to stay firmly locked away.

Except, it’s on a particularly crowded day at the shop that your jealousy gets the best of you.

You’re up front assisting Jimin by boxing and bagging the treats he rings up.

You know he’s flirtatious, but it’s when he goes the extra mile for an extra pretty girl that you lose your cool on him the moment the customers leave.  

“Do you have to eye-fuck every single co-ed that walks in this place?!”

Your hands fly up in frustration, and Jimin watches you with a soft gaze.

His silence and knowing smirk makes you continue.

“Seriously? What the fuck was that about?! You’re acting like you’re about to bend her over right here in front of us! Jesus!”

Willow hears the commotion from the back and comes forward.

“What’s going on here?” She asks suspiciously.

You point towards Jimin who maintains his poised demeanor.

“I’m reminding Jimin that work is not a place to sexually engage our customers!”

Willow rolls her eyes as she pulls her apron off and grabs her coat from the hook.

“Whatever, you’re being ridiculous. Jimin’s never been inappropriate. Plus, he’s making us a fuck-ton of money,” she sighs. “You two can close up without killing each other right?”  She eyes you in particular.

You cross your arms and huff, glancing at the clock to find you have two hours still until closing. “Why? Where are you going?”

Willow’s annoyance fades away as if it never existed.

“Jungkook is taking me to the Museum of the Printing Press!”

You can’t help but choke a laugh while she pushes your arm.

“Shush! You know how much I love them! And he totally surprised me with tickets!”

Willow can’t shake that lovesick look in her eyes and your heart melts a little. She’s your best friend and you’re thrilled she’s found someone who wants to indulge her in her nerdy fascinations.

“Go have fun, babe,” you smile sincerely. “We can take care of closing. Now, go fuck on a letterpress or whatever!”

Willow snorts and hugs you tight, bids goodbye to Jimin, and exits the store.

Now that your quick anger is gone, you feel sheepish around the man who has yet to reply to your tirade—but you refuse to stick around under his piercing gaze.

“I’ll be in the back,” you mumble under your breath before slipping into the kitchen before he can get any word in edge wise.

You spend the rest of the evening monologuing an apology as you prep ingredients for the next morning and clean your workstations.  The shop is closed, doors locked, and Jimin is somewhere at the front of the house finishing his duties.

“‘Hey, I’m sorry for the way I acted’,” you practice out loud. “Hm—no, not humble enough. ‘Hey Jimin, I was a real bitch’, too degrading?  Maybe something like, ‘Hey Chim, can I call you Chim? That was fucked up, wasn’t it? Haha.’ God!” You throw your rag down in a huff, frustrated at your inability to form a decent apology.

“You can call me Chim, if you want,” a voice speaks from behind you.

You squeak in surprise and turn around, clutching your apron in your hands as you find Jimin leaning against a wall with a smirk on his face.

“Only my closest friends call me Chim, but I think we’re close enough.”

You swallow hard and nibble at your lip.

“I’m assuming you heard that whole… thing,” you mumble anxiously.  His nod confirms that he heard your entire play-by-play of the apology you would deliver to the handsome man.

“Yeah,” he licks at his lips. “You know, you’re really cute when you’re jealous.”

“J-jealous?” You nearly trip over your own tongue.  “I wasn’t—, I’m not jealous!”

Jimin begins a slow approach towards you, striding as he keeps his sparkling eyes on yours.

“Oh?”  He quirks his head, making his soft hair fall into his face.  You desperately want to push it away, cup his cheek, kiss those ridiculously plump lips.

He can tell you’re staring at this mouth and it makes his smirk turn nearly feral.

“So, you weren’t jealous? Not a single bit?”

He inches closer and you can feel your heart tighten in your chest and your stomach twists in on itself in excitement, in nerves.

“N-no,” you whisper, unconvincingly.

“You didn’t want to be the one I was making eyes at?  The one who ‘gets bent over the counter’ as you said?”

“I—,” Jimin cuts your words short as he stands a breath away from you.

“I guess if you weren’t jealous, then I don’t have to tell you you’re the one I really want to bend over the counter.”

You’re sure your heart stops beating—positive that it will fall from its place in your ribs into your feet.  

“What?”

Jimin cups a hand to your cheek and smiles as he steps even closer.

“If you’re not jealous, then I don’t have to reassure you you’ve got nothing to be jealous over.”

Your lips run dry, throat parched as if you’ve never had a sip of water.  Jimin is standing so close to you you can feel the heat coming off of him in waves.

“Jimin—,” you breathe and he continues forward until he presses you against the countertop and crowding you into the metal and wood.

“Tell me you were jealous.”

You gulp, eyes seeking his for an answer, for any information.  Is he playing you? Does he know you’re hopelessly attracted to him?  Does he find it humorous to tease you when Willow isn’t here to insert herself into your flirting.

“I was jealous,” you admit slowly. The words are hard to release, but once they do, the floodgates open. “I wanted to be the one you flirted with.  I was jealous because I want to be the one you notice.”

Jimin smirks, then pulls your face in quickly for a heated kiss.

His lips are just as plush, just as soft as you imagined.  They’re puffy and sweet and he tastes like one of the treacle tarts you made that morning.  He must have had one with lunch, and you find yourself addicted to the way he tastes with your creations on him. You wonder what he’d taste like with your arousal coating that tender, plump mouth.

He bites at your own lip and tugs, chucking under his breath as you mewl your desire at the slight hint of pain.

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re angry like that,” he breathes as he presses his forehead to yours.  “I nearly popped a boner while you were yelling at me. I could tell you were jealous, and it made me want you more.”

It’s hard to hear him speak so candidly—it makes you groan.

“Jimin—fuck,” you sigh. “I’ve been attracted to you since you walked into this goddamn place.”

He smirks and snags your lips up in another desperate, yet quick, kiss.

“I know.  It’s why you didn’t want me to work here.”

You grumble after he pulls away, tired of the teasing and wanting nothing more than to stop talking and start doing.

“I didn’t like you because you assumed I wasn’t the owner.”

He smiles and rubs at your arms, a softer expression crossing his face.

“No, but I hoped you were.”

It’s silent for a moment and you let his words wash over you as he continues.

“I was attracted to your authority.  I could tell you were important here somehow, just didn’t know in what way.”

You swallow your growing guilt.  You had clocked Jimin entirely wrong.

“Jimin, I’m sorry,” you start.

“Hey, hey, I already heard your apology, remember?” He smiles.  “Although, I could think of a great way to mend the wounds if you’re interested.  No pressure.”

His soft smile becomes a devilish grin instantly and your body lights with instant arousal.

“What did you have in mind?”

His lips press to yours again and you nearly lose yourself completely in his embrace.  Your arms circle his neck and he holds you tight at your waist, before pulling away from you, yet again.

“I happen to be very good at creaming, if you’ll recall.”

You can’t hold back a snort of laughter, that quickly gets covered by Jimin’s hot lips, one’s he will not pull away from you any time soon.

“You want to, right here?” You ask as he trails a hot line down your throat.

“Yeah, do you?”  

You vaguely remember Willow’s threat of not fucking in the kitchen, but find you can’t seem to care an ounce.

“Fuck yeah, I do.”

Jimin needs to hear no more.  He pulls you close and kisses you with the remaining amounts of pent-up passion and emotion he feels for you.  He’s grown to love the way you take charge, the way you move through the building like you own the place—because you do.  He loves the power you radiate and wants nothing more than to make you give up that power for a single night, to him.

“You wanna do this… all the way?” He asks, re-assuring himself that he’s not throwing himself at his boss.

“I want you, Jimin.  I want you to bend me over this workbench and fuck me until I’m crying for more.  Please.”

He grins and lays a hand on your neck, fingers tracing the gentle lines.  

“I might not let you boss me around,” he warns.

“Take control.”  Your eyes are blazing with need.  It makes him smile, and he gives the moment a slight pause.

“Then, get on your knees and show me just how sorry you are for yelling at me.”

You’re sinking to your knees quicker than you can comprehend.  Jimin is almost thrown at how instantly you caved and submitted to him.  He watches as your eyes stay fixed on his and your hands work at the button of his tight jeans.  

“That’s right,” he murmurs.  “Right where you belong.  No one else.”

You preen—heart warming at the idea that you’re the only one he wants kneeling before him and tugging his cock out of its confines.  

It springs forward, and it pulls your gaze from Jimin’s magnetic eyes.  It’s long and thick, just like you suspected all those nights with your vibrator stuffed where he should be.  Your mouth waters at the sight and you lean towards it to mouth at it gently—pressing soft open-mouth kisses to the tip.

“Oh, shit,” Jimin gasps.  Your fiery mouth feels like heaven on his cock.  It’s something he’s equally dreamed about—spent many nights fisting his cock to the thought of you.

You take your time, licking tiny stripes around the head and down the shaft, until Jimin becomes weary of the teasing.

“Please, take it all.”  His request is so genuine, so needy, that you’re loath to deny him.

He slips into your mouth with ease, slicked up just enough by your trailing kisses that he slides in and hits the back of your throat in seconds.  His eyes close as he feels his cock-head hit the back of your throat—a tighter and more constricting feeling in your already impossibly tight mouth.  It feels like absolute bliss, and he’s gasping for air after mere moments of you holding him inside your mouth to the hilt.

He doesn’t need to speak; you know what to do.  Your mouth works him in and out, tongue swirling around any open real estate of his cock.   His moans echo around the tile of the kitchen walls and he’s sure that the sight of you on your knees with his cock disappearing in and out of your mouth will have him cumming in no time.  

He steels himself, makes his body behave because he wants to enjoy this and the way you feel.  As good as your mouth feels, he’s desperate to know what it’s like to slide into that cunt he’s spent too many nights dreaming about.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines as you make delicious, slurping noises from the gathering saliva.  It’s a wet squelching sound that makes him even harder than what he believes is possible—all blood in his head now completely rushed to his dick for his pleasure.

“B-Babe!” He calls as he feels his balls tightening.  He doesn’t want to cum, not yet.

He grips your head by the scalp of your hair and pulls you off his cock that is seconds away from losing control.

“Please, I’ve got to fuck you,” he nearly begs.

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand and smirk, licking the tip of his cock teasingly before standing up to his full height.

Jimin’s hands fly to your expensive leggings that you insist on wearing to work while he kisses you.  The kiss is feverish, frantic. It’s full of tongue and teeth and desperate moaning against each other as he pushes down the pants and delicate panties, and cups your cunt in one hand.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper against his mouth as the pad of his finger slides against your clit.

“You’re fucking soaked.  All from sucking my cock?”  He’s cocky and sucks a mark onto your neck as he massages the bundle of nerves.

“Don’t be arrogant now,” you warn with a smile.

He presses his tongue to your ear and licks a stripe and chuckles.

“I think you like it when I’m arrogant. Your pussy sure seems to like it.”

He emphasizes his words by slipping two fingers into your channel and fucks into you, scissoring you open.  He cuts off any chance for you to retort by launching his lips back to yours and prowling around your mouth with his tongue.

His fingers are small but fill you so deeply, and you’re sure his hand is drenched with your arousal.

“J-Jimin, please,” you gasp as you pull your mouth away to breathe in deep.  “Please, just fuck me already.”

He growls into your ear.  

“I thought I told you you’re not in charge.”

He spins you easily until your back is pressed to his chest.  He grabs the hem of your shirt and lifts, throwing the shirt away and quickly making work of your bra clasps to join the shirt on the floor.

His hands cup your full breasts and you can’t help but whimper at the feeling of his soft and warm hands.  He feels so good against the chilled skin of your chest and he tweaks and thumbs your nipples until they stand perky and erect.

“I’ve always wanted to bend you over this counter,” he muses in your ear as he pulls a nipple harshly.  It makes you squeak out at the pain, then moan as the pain turns into a sizzling, pleasurable spike that runs through your veins.

“Every time I would catch you staring at me, I just wanted to fuck your cute little throat until you were gagging around me.”

Your eyes close as he continues his abuse on your perky nipples and whispering his deepest thoughts about you.

“I wanted to lift your cute dresses and eat your cunt until you’re wailing loud enough all the customers can hear.”

“Jimin,” you nearly cry.  “Please, fuck me.”

You can feel his hardness lining up behind you, rubbing at your sodden folds to cover his length in your slick juices.

“I like it when you beg.”

He kisses at the juncture of your neck before letting his teeth graze over the spot and bites down—right as he pushes your face down to the workbench and slides his cock into your spread heat.

He bottoms out easily.  You’re soaking wet and he buries himself to the hilt in one fluid motion.  He groans out loud—stunned by the heat and wetness of your pussy and how tight it grips him.

“Oh, holy shit,” he gasps as he gives himself and you a moment.  His hands grip at your waist, one hand coming to rub the tender skin of your supple ass.

“Jimin, fuck, you’re so big,” you whine.  

He brings his hand up, then slaps it down on your ass hard, hard enough that the crack echoes around the large kitchen.  You cry out in delight, in pain, as the reverberation of the stinging wraps around you.

“Fuck, you take me so well, princess,” he whines as he sets a pace.  Your ass meets his hips and claps with each thrust, and he punctuates every few pumps into you with another hard slap to your ass.  He wants you screaming his name, crying out for him loud enough that the neighbors know who he is.

He’s relentless in his pumps—gripping your hips tight as he fucks you deep and senseless.  Your eyes roll back into your head at how well he works your body.  Your tits rub raw against the wood of the workbench and you’re weeping fat tears of pleasure as Jimin continues his plight.

“God, I’m gonna cum, baby,” he warns.  “Cum on my cock, princess.”

You slide a hand down to your clit, eager to add the ultimate piece to what makes you unravel.  He grins and pumps into you harder, slaps your ass repeatedly until he knows it’s going to leave bruises.

“That’s right, baby, rub that pretty little clit,” he urges.  “God, I can’t wait until you you sit on my face and let me eat this fucking cunt for hours.”

You blubber a response of desire, nearly begging him for more and more, as you swirl your fingers around the tight bundle.  You’re peaking towards the summit of your climax, ascending to a point you’ve never gone before.

“Fuck, Chim!” You scream. “Gonna cum!”

Your warning falls on deaf ears—you’re cumming and pulsating around his thickness instantly and Jimin moans mix with your own to create a symphony of pleasure.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos.  “Your cunt is so good to me, baby.  Mmph—let’s frost this cake, now.”

Instantly, he’s groaning as he pulls his cock free from the vice-grip of your cunt and jerks himself twice to completion, allowing his hot seed to splatter against the tender flesh of your ass where he’s left a clear print of his hand.   The warmth soothes the battered skin and you shake your ass teasingly as he continues to stroke himself through his climax.

“Ohhhhh, my god,” he breathes as he finally comes down from his high.

Your face is resting on the cool surface of the wooden workbench as your breathing slowly settles back to normal.

“That was fucking good,” you whisper with a smile.  Jimin bends down to press soft kisses to your spine, before grabbing a towel to gently clean his cum off your beaten ass.

“Willow’s going to kill you for fucking me in the kitchen,” he warns with a laugh as he kisses the same spot he came on.

“It takes two to bake a cake, buddy,” you tease.

He laughs and brings a hand down to your untouched asscheek, making you squeal with delight.

“That’s not how the saying goes, but sure, doll.”

The next morning, you’re hard at work making a five-tiered wedding cake with Willow at your side, when Jimin throws open the door.

“Good morning to the loves of my life!”

Willow chokes on her own air while you hide a giggle behind your cake covered hand.

Jimin approaches the pair of you while she splutters and gasps.

“What?”  What happened last night after I left?”

Your cheeks heat and Jimin wears a face of pure cockiness.

“Oh my god,” Willow gasps as her eyes open wide, snapping your tender ass with her rag.  “You did NOT fuck in my kitchen!”

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

taglist -  @preciouschimine​ @nyamjinnie​ @unicornnomore​ @bangtansbun​ @theneighborhoodfangirl​ @cyberbunny21​

[imagine-that-100]

Truth Serum

Description: Matty Healy x Reader (Female) | You’ve been friends with Matty for quite a few years and he thinks he knows pretty much everything about you. Like how you’re always more honest when you’d had a drink and even more so when you’re tired too. But when a head injury and strong painkillers are added to that equation, for Matty it’s entertaining, but for you it’s a recipe for heartbreak. 

Word Count: 9.7k

Warnings: A lil bit of angst but mostly fluff.

A/N: This was requested by @jagz72​! Sorry it took so long but I got VERY carried away and just couldn't stop writing. I really hope you enjoy reading it, I definitely enjoyed writing it. I hope everyone has a very Happy New Year! This year has been amazing (on Tumblr) and I’ve connected with so many people on here it’s been really lovely making so many new friends. I’m wishing you all a wonderful 2021!

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated but most of all, thank you so much for reading x

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This really wasn’t how you hoped your day would go. But here you were, sitting on a hospital bed with a nurse shining a torch in your eyes making sure you were okay.

The reason you were here may be funny in the future when you tell it back to your kids or something. But right now, you were worried and so was the man that was holding your hand, who’d been the cause of your injury.

Matty had brought you to A&E as soon as the incident happened.

You'd been friends for 3 years, so it really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary these days when Matty popped by early in the morning. You knew he liked getting out of his house so his inability to sleep for long durations didn’t suffocate him.

After all, no one liked lying in bed wide awake when you knew you were meant to be asleep.

So, you’d given him a key many moons ago to try and help him combat that. You were a creative person, be that crafting or baking or painting.

You had it all.

So, his mind could run wild in your house and he’d yet to get bored. You’d woken up more than once to find him in your lounge, painting once but most of the time you found him trying to replicate your baking goods.

And he was really shit at it.

When he walked into your home this morning, you were already up and in the kitchen baking. Truthfully it was a surprise to see you up and about so early as it was only 6:30.

You didn’t sleep very well last night as you’d been out drinking with a few friends. You never really slept well after an alcohol filled night. It always left you really dehydrated and because you lived quite a bit out of London, not too far from Matty, you most of the time started with your hangover before you even got back home.

But that was the choice you made when you went into the city to drink.

So in theory Matty shouldn't have been surprised when he saw you already awake this morning. He knew you’d gone out and he knew what drinking did to you.

Matty quite liked when you got drunk with him, you were a really funny person and you pretty much had no filter when you had alcohol in your system. That was always fun for you all when you went out, and Matty loved the taxis back home with you on nights like that.

He always brought an extra drink in the taxi with him so your hangover wouldn’t start in the 30 minute drive back.

Matty had greeted you with a hug when he walked into your house and found that you were in the kitchen. You seemed really happy to see him too and you got to chatting about how Notes was coming along.

But it seemed that you and Matty let time get the better of you as Matty kept teasing you for practically still being drunk. The alcohol that was still present in your system obviously hadn’t worn off it’s truth serum effects yet and Matty liked to tease you about doing impulsive things, like baking cookies at 7:30 in the morning.  

The next time Matty looked at the clock though, he was really late for a meeting. Your tired, tipsy, sleep deprived self had been quite entertaining leading him to forget that he had people to meet.

Jamie had called him double checking about the meeting that was meant to be starting at 8:45. But the time was now 9:22 and he still hadn’t showed up so Jamie, being the friendly manager he was, just called him up to check if he was okay.

“Oh fuck.” Matty curses looking at the caller ID and the time.

You look around at Matty worriedly and ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m meant to be at a meeting with Jamie and the lads right now.” Matty tells you, “I’ll be just a minute.”

Matty goes out of the kitchen to answer the call as he didn’t want to disturb your early morning baking. He didn't care if you could hear what he said or not he just didn't want to disturb your morning.

That and he was going to try and get out of the meeting so he could stay and eat all the cookies you’d yet to put in the oven.

Matty answers Jamie and profusely apologises for lacking manners to show up to a meeting on time. Thankfully, Jamie isn’t that fussed about it and suggests putting the meeting back as he was free until early afternoon.

Matty jumps at that chance.  

But then Matty practically whips himself around with the intent to ask you how long it will take to bake the cookies so he’d know how long to push the meeting back, but he never gets that far. When Matty turns around, he barges his shoulder straight into you causing you to be pushed back.

You were just about to make your way past him to get your phone from where you’d put it on charge in your lounge earlier, but that was long forgotten when your head smacked off the corner of the wooden door frame behind you.  

The bang to the back of your head shocked Matty to his core. You both stopped dead and looked at each other and as soon as Matty’s hands rested on your shoulders he kept apologising.

“Shit shit shit. Y/N are you okay?!” Matty asks, his hands flying to your shoulders to steady you, his phone still in his hand.

“I’m okay.” You tell him in shock, moving away from the door frame a little to hold the back of your head.

You could feel a lump forming already, but there was no blood, so you guessed you were alright. Matty quickly puts his phone to his ear to tell Jamie he’d call him back before he pockets his phone and holds your shoulders again.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I didn't know you were there, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Matty asks worriedly.

“Not your fault Matty.” You tell him, “I’m fine.”

Something which Matty doesn’t believe for a solid minute despite you assuring him that you were okay.

Once he relaxes a little, he pulls you into a hug as another way to apologise. You also relax and take your hand off the back of your head to hug him back, trying to assure him you’re okay. But you can’t help the curse that falls from your lips as you could already feel a headache coming on.

“Fuck me.” You say resting your forehead down on his shoulder.

His eyes go wide, “Really?” Matty questions in shock.

“No.” You say immediately, and Matty is about to laugh until you correct your statement to, “Well, not right now.”

Matty’s eyes widen, “What?”  

You didn’t even say it in a sarcastic or joking way. Matty immediately felt the need to pry.

“My head hurts a little.” You whine into his shoulder, but he assumes it's to try and distract from the little slip up you just had.

And as much as Matty wanted to make your head better instantly he was shocked by what you said. So before he could stop himself he grins, “Tell me what you just said.”

“Matty I’m fine, go to your meeting.” You say picking your head up off his shoulder.

He looks into your Y/E/C eyes and they narrow as he asks if he hears correctly, “You said I couldn’t fuck you right now?”

“Yeah, so?” You shake your head as if you didn’t remember saying that.

Matty looks at you curiously, frowning a little as the thought had never really crossed his mind that you thought of him like that. “You want me to fuck you?”

“We’re not discussing this right now.” You shake your head again but Matty sees pain flash through your eyes. You hold the back of your head again and he can see you're actually in pain. “Matty, my head hurts.”

“I’ll get you some ice.” Matty says letting go of your waist and looking to your fridge freezer across the room.

Before he can move though you grab his arm and say, “No, go to your meeting.”

“You can’t just say you want me to fuck you and then tell me to go to a meeting Y/N.” Matty grins at you.  

You close your eyes and sigh, “Matty.”

Matty’s grin gets bigger and he holds your waist again and teasingly says your name, “Y/N.”

“You shouldn’t be joking about this now...” You shake your head a little harder, “You just made me accidentally whack my head on the fucking door fra- oh... I feel dizzy.” You say and Matty’s heart goes in his throat when your eyes roll to the back of your head and you almost go limp in his arms.

“Shit.” Matty says, tightening his hold around you so you don't fall to the floor and hit your head again.

And that was how you ended up in A&E at 9:55 on a Friday morning.

“Okay so, you’re okay but you’ve had a moderate concussion and you're unfortunately going to be in pain for a day or two with it.” The nurse tells you when she stops shining the torch in your eyes.

“We will give you stronger painkillers than the ones you’ve already taken but with these you need to be woken up every two hours when you go to sleep tonight. Try and stay awake as long as possible today and then,” She looks to Matty, “You need to wake her a little every two hours. Not like getting up and about but she needs to respond or you call an ambulance.”

“Oh he’s n-” You start to correct her to wonder what you need to do for yourself because Matty wouldn’t be with you.

But Matty says, “Yeah course, I can do that.”

After the nurse told you and Matty what symptoms of things getting worse to look out for you picked up your prescription from the chemist. After that though you expected to go back home and try to relax your headache away but Matty refused to let you out of his sight because it was his fault you were in this state.

So Matty took you to his pushed back meeting and took you to the studio afterwards as he had to keep his eye on you. You weren’t chatty throughout it all, as you tried to keep yourself to yourself.

But that didn’t mean that you didn’t find the meeting fucking boring and you felt like you were intruding in the studio. But you did get another insight into their new album which was fun.

You tried to keep your mouth shut whilst you listened to it, liking to take in the lyrics but when you did you were a little shocked about it.

The song you were allowed to listen to today was Nothing Revealed/ Everything Denied and there were a few revelations in there that you weren't expecting. But you tried to keep that as quiet as you could because the strong painkillers mixed with the lack of sleep was also acting as another form of truth serum.

Since taking your painkillers early this afternoon, you’d been messy to say the least. You’d made a fool out of yourself when you complimented all of the other boys.

Earlier you basically told George earlier that you thought his tattoos were attractive. You told Ross that his hair was looking really good with it longer on top and you even accidentally moved it and styled it a tad for him. You forced yourself to not tell Adam that you found him hypnotic when he played the guitar.

“You have nice eyes” You tell Matty, but not actually meaning to, as you sat across from him at the cafe you’d gone to for lunch not far from the studio.

Matty glances back at you from the window then and he smiles, “Thank you”

He also feels the need to add, “You’ve got nice eyes too”

You seem to become a bit embarrassed then which makes Matty smile. You seem to disagree with his observation though and shake your head which confuses him a little, until you say, “I have boring eyes”

“Mine are literally the colour of this table Y/N” Matty says, pointing to the dark wood that your plates both rest on. “Not very interesting”

“They are interesting. They look like they see the world differently” You say honestly before looking back down to your food.

Matty watches as you eat then. It seemed like you didn’t mean to say that either because you went a bit shy again.

He decides to let this one slide but when you do it again he can’t help himself.

About 3 hours later, Matty was driving you both back home from the studio and he noticed that you were pretty silent in the car despite one of your favourite songs just being on the radio. Matty looks to you after the song finishes and notices your leaning your head on the window.

Your eyes were closed and you looked a bit better than earlier, so he asked you, “How you feeling, love?”

But you didn’t answer him and that makes him panic a little bit. He forgot you weren’t allowed to sleep.

“Hey Y/N/N” Matty says, flicking his eyes between you and the road and he shakes your shoulder.

“I’m tired Matty, leave me alone ” You say shrugging his hand away.

“No no no stay awake” Matty says pulling on your hair a little bit instead to try and annoy you awake.

He does it for a minute and he only stops when you pick your head up off the window. You shift in your seat and turn towards him so you’re now facing him properly and resting your temple on the headrest.

You close your eyes again but you know he’s right, so you ask, “Can you keep chatting to me to keep me awake because I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

“Fuck.” Matty chuckles.

You always told him to shut up. Never to keep talking.

“Have I broken you?” Matty chuckles a little looking back to the road.

“Not in the way I want you to break me.” Matty hears you whisper and his eyes go wide.  

He sees that your eyes were closed again but this time you were curled up on the seat facing him. It didn’t even look like you knew what you just said.

He immediately turns his head and asks in shock, “Do you know you said that out loud?”

“I said that out loud?” You ask, your eyes open in shock.

“Yes Y/N.” Matty smirks glancing back at the road and then at you again.

You look mortified and you pull your phone out  of your pocket and distract yourself on that. You don’t look at him as you say, “Well pretend I didn’t”

Matty wants answers though. “Y/N do you wa-“

But you interrupt with, “Matty when are you releasing Notes because I wanna play If You’re too Shy on repeat?”

“Y/N/N.” Matty tries again but you have none of it.

“Answer me.” You insist, evidently not wanting to revert back to what you said.  

Matty gives in and estimates, “Like May-ish.”

“May?” You question in an annoyed sigh. “Matty you said it would be out last year.”

“Don’t believe what I say music wise.” Matty says looking back to the road now as you definitely weren’t going to go back to the topic of him ‘breaking you’. “I said that we were stopping the band after Notes remember and that’s changed.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why you ever said that. You belong on a stage”. You say as you scroll back through your phone.  

“Thanks Darling” Matty grins, “Do you like watching me up on stage?”

He hopes to get another comment out of you like before. But he just gets a sarcastic, “Oh yeah Hun, you look like the drama queen you are.”  

You’re good with your slip ups after that until late at night when you head up to bed with Matty following close behind joking about the ‘adult sleepover’ you were having. He’d insisted he was staying and doing the checks on you every two hours.

You were fine with that as he’d stayed in your bed before when the both of you had passed out mid movie nights, but the jokes you could do without. Especially when your lips were speaking so freely from the meds you were on and the lack of sleep in your system.

“You hurt me Matthew, you should be taking care of me not asking me to shag you” You say before heading into your bathroom to get changed after throwing a pair of joggers his way.  

When you re-enter your bedroom, you see Matty already under your duvet and you give him a hug once you lie yourself down beside him.

“You’re never this touchy with me” Matty says a minute into the hug that's practically turned into a cuddle.  

“Because I don’t know if you like me touching you.” You say as you let go of him and grab the pillow under your head to bring it between you so you could hug it as you drifted off to sleep.

But you leave Matty confused then. You were never the touchy type in general and in the time he’d known you, he’d never seen you with the boyfriend you had when you initially met so he didn’t even know if you were a cuddly person in a relationship.  

“You don’t like anyone touching you.” Matty says after your eyes had been closed for a few seconds.  

You don’t open them back up again, not even when you admit, “I like you touching me.”

It makes Matty once again freeze as he wasn’t expecting your honesty. And he certainly wasn’t expecting you to continue with, “Makes my day when you give me a hug or kiss my cheek or give me a loving headlock, even if your hair does tickle my face when you do it.”

You chuckle a little at the end of your sentence which leads Matty to do as well, at both your honesty and the comment about his hair. The way you’re smiling into your pillow is also impossible for Matty now to smile at.

“I love your hair, you know?” You tell him, still keeping your eyes closed.  

Matt smiles at the fact your filter seems to be completely gone at this point. So Matty feels the need to compliment you back.

“I love your hair.” Matty tells you, tucking a strand of it that had fallen onto your face behind your ear. He tells you honestly, “I like messing with it”

“Mhhh” You hum with a smile. You add in a whisper, “I like it when you pull on it.”

Matty is once again taken aback by your statement and this time he can’t let it go. The teasing remarks that you’d been accidently letting slip all day had to have meant something, or you wouldn’t look so sheepish after you said them.

Like just now you were cuddling yourself into your pillow more than you already had been and Matty just couldn’t bring himself to let it go. Yeah it may not be the time for such a conversation at 1:48am but here you both were.

And Matty had to know.  

So after a silent minute he said, “Y/N”

“What?” You ask softly.  

“You know I can hear you whispering?”

“Maybe you were meant to.” You tiredly suggest, your voice barely above a whisper.  

“Where’s this all coming from?” Matty asks, a little amused as you never gave out compliments unless it was about his music.

The music was something you never joked about but you always did with him and the rest of the band.

Matty watches as you internally battle with yourself on what to reply. But it seems the truth ends up being your easiest option despite you sighing before you start.  

“I think I like you a lot Matty.” You tell him and it shocked the curly haired man to his soul. You carry on, your eyes still closed, “And once I slipped up I couldn’t stop myself from carrying on.”

Matty struggles to find words for a moment there. He didn’t know what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t this.

“I think about you all the time when I’m not supposed to…” You trail off for a moment there leaving the room in silence. Something which then leads to you add in a sad tone, “And I get it if you leave... I wouldn’t like me either but I’m sick of hiding it now.”

Matty stumbles again but he just about manages to ask, “Ho- How long...? Have you liked me?”

“I think I noticed after George’s party” You say thinking back to three months ago.

“Why?” Matty asks, not remembering anything significantly different about that night compared to the others you’ve shared together.  

“Because you’re you” You say simply.

Matty frowns a little then, not annoyed he doesn’t think, but maybe a little disappointed. He didn’t want people to like him because he was Matty Healy from The 1975 anymore.

Matty wanted that left behind in 2015. That’s why he’d had the long relationship with Gabby and that was why he’d only been out with very few people since her, Twigs being the only one that got a little serious. But all of them eventually fizzled out for different reasons.

Matty just didn’t want people to want him because of who he was on stage or who the media presented him as anymore. He was done with it... completely and utterly-

“You always make me laugh by pulling a face when I’ve had a bad day at work.” You carry on after those few seconds of silence, and you continue on to say, “You know my shit and you tease me about it but in a fun loving sorta way. You tuck your hair behind your ear when you're nervous which is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen and I get jealous when you do it to other girls and not me, but that’s fine. And my heart goes rapid when you tell me a cheesy joke because you decided to tell it me first. And I find myself wanting you to be around all the time even if it’s the middle of the night.”

You finish off your tired rambling leaving Matty on the opposite side of your bed completely stunned. So much so that the man who always has something to say is left speechless.

Nothing coming out of his mouth even if he could think of something to say. You have completely stunned him.

He is so desperately trying to think of a way to reply to you that he doesn’t realise how much time passes. The only thing that rips him out of his thoughts are your next soft words.

“Am I allowed to go to sleep now or do I have to stay awake?” You question in a whisper, your voice thick with tiredness.  

Matty looks at your soft stunning features and just about manages to whisper back, “You can sleep... But don’t you want me to tell you how I’m feeling?”

You shake your head into your pillow and Matty listens intently when you say, “I’d rather have ten more minutes of us being friends without it being awkward and then I can wake up tomorrow and cry when you’re not there and don’t want to be my friend anymore.”

And just that sentence alone breaks Matty's heart. He assures you, “I’m never going to not be your friend”

Because no matter what happened tomorrow he didn’t want to lose you. You’d always been such a good friend, there was no way Matty was ever going to let that go.

“But you’re not going to be close with me anymore because you know I like you.” You say, your voice full of melancholy. But you for some reason feel the need to assure him, “And that’s okay. I wouldn’t like me either... But thank you for being my friend for as long as you have.”

“Y/N” Matty starts but you don’t let him finish.

“Goodnight Matty. Talk in the morning.” You say, “But if you go, I understand. I won’t bother you anymore.”

“I’m n-” Matty tired again but your tired voice interrupts once more.  

“Thanks for everything Matty.” You say giving him a smile, your eyes still closed but you must have known he was watching you.

That night Matty didn’t sleep a wink. You were all he could think about. He lay on the other side of your bed for hours trying to process everything you said.

He couldn’t believe it. He was really shocked by your honesty just before you went to sleep but as you spoke he could physically see your body relax. As if it was a weight of your shoulders which he guessed it must have been.

Matty took the hours he lay awake and processed everything about yours and his friendship through his mind. And there were so many happy memories.

Matty didn't even get through the first year before his 2 hour alarm went off on his apple watch and he stirred you a bit to make sure you were still alive. He of course knew you were but when you hummed a little in response to him calling your name that was enough for Matty to let you rest again.

Matty went over every single thing he could remember in his mind. The highs and the lows of the last 3 years in your presence and he was smiling throughout most of it.

Sometimes his thoughts got away with him so much he had to put the TV you had in your room on to distract him. The volume stayed on low but he had to distract himself because not getting a chance to talk to you left him wanting to wake you up and talk everything through.

But he knew you’d had a shit night’s sleep the previous day and the bump on your head had left you really tired. So he couldn’t deprive you the rest you definitely needed.

But now it was 7:36 and Matty couldn’t just lie in bed next to you anymore. He had to go do something.  

~*~*~*~

You woke up the next morning afraid to open your eyes. You were petrified.

Of course you remembered everything that had been said the night before and you knew if you opened your eyes and saw the guy you fancied beside you that your friendship at the very least would be okay. But if you opened your eyes to see an empty bed, you know you fucked it completely.

So that was why you kept your eyes closed for 5 minutes once you woke up. You could hear your TV playing music from the other side of the room so you never heard Matty breathing. But there was a reason for that.

Because when you opened your eyes, you found an empty bed.

Your heart sank and immediately tears came to your eyes. You knew you shouldn’t have done it. You shouldn’t have told him anything.

Now you’d lost your good friend and probably the rest of the band on the way. By the time you sat up and walked into your bathroom, the tears were freely streaming down your face.

You didn’t even try to stop them. You just let them fall and got in the shower so you could cry to your heart’s content.

Your chest hurt. It hurt in a way it hadn’t for a long time because you’d not let anyone in like you’d accidentally let Matty in.

And of course he wasn’t interested in you. Why would he be?

You were no Halsey or Gabby or FKA Twigs. You were no one’s love of their life, but you thought Matty might have been yours.

It was so stupid of you to think like that.

You hoped the 20 minute shower would have been enough time to settle your heartache but apparently it wasn’t. You were still crying long after you turned the water off and you got yourself dry.

You cried as you blow dried your hair, you cried as you changed into your comfort pair of joggers (the ones you’d loaned Matty last night) and your massively baggy hoodie. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing which meant that the pressure behind your eyes started to hurt your head.

You turned the TV off but that didn’t help. So you went downstairs to get yourself a drink and some painkillers as your injury from yesterday wasn’t helping either.

But when you opened your kitchen door the bang of something hitting the worktop didn’t help either. You push the door open fully and we’re shocked to see your kitchen in an absolute state with Matty standing there in his clothes from yesterday with a tray full of unbaked cookies in his hand.

“What are you doing?” The words come out of your mouth as you look at the state that your kitchen was in.

There’s baking goods everywhere and from the things that were out you couldn’t tell if he was making bread or some sort of cake. You were very confused but your curly haired friend also looked confused.

He didn’t turn to look at you as he was trying to make sure the cookies that were on the tray didn’t roll off as he put them in the oven. He opened up the now very hot contraption and once they were in and the door was shut he quickly put a timer on his phone to check them after a while.

“I’m trying to make you some cookies. But you know yours are always going to be better than mine because the first batch I tried I put icing sugar instead of cast-  what’s wrong?” Matty asks, finally turning to look at you.

When he did, he saw that your eyes were swollen and your cheeks were puffy and your eyes were all bloodshot. He threw the oven glove to the side not caring where it went and walked over to you, “Why are you crying?”

You withdraw then and look down away from him. The ball immediately rises back to your throat and the tears that had just briefly stopped are threatening to flow again.

“Y/N/N” Matty takes your hand so you can’t move away again.

You shake your head and look down to the ground. You just about managed to get out, “Doesn’t matter”

“Course it matters, you’re upset” Matty says but you just shake your head and don’t look at him.

But that doesn’t mean he can see the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Come here” He says, pulling you into a hug and you truly didn’t realise how much you needed it.

You inhale a very shaky breath which hurts Matty’s heart so he asks again, running a hand up and down your back, “What’s wrong? Why are you upset?”

You don’t have the energy to make up a lie so you just tell him the truth.

“You weren’t there when I woke up. I thought I lost you” You whisper but your voice comes out in a much higher octave than usual as you’re trying not to fully sob again.

Matty pulls away from the hug but keeps you close. Both his hands come up to cup your face and his thumbs brush away your tears and he says softly, “Don’t cry”

“Matty I’ve been crying for the better part of an hour, you telling me to stop won’t just make it happen” You half laugh half whine.

Your emotions were everywhere. You couldn’t believe he was still here. You still weren’t to be fair, you were half sure you were dreaming.

“You really think I would just leave you?” Matty asks with a tiny frown as he again wipes another tear away.

“Well yeah.” You shrug a little pathetically before carrying on in a pained voice, ”You don’t owe me anything. I’m just some girl you know. I’m not one important, so why would you stay?”

“Because you’re so much more than that you’ve just said.” Matty tells you honestly. His heart hurting that you thought of yourself like that.

“You don’t have to pretend.” You shake your head, ”I’m a big girl, I can handle rejection.”

Matty can’t believe you don’t get it.

“Y/N/N I’m standing in your house trying to bake you cookies, comforting you, I always flirt with you and I have done for ages… And you still think I want someone else?” Matty asks, wiping your tears away.

”No.“ Matty confirms, ”Yeah, you shocked me last night because you’ve never ever given me the slightest inkling that you liked me but when you started, it all fits Y/N.”

Matty continues to shock you with, “Why do you think I said ‘really’ yesterday when you said ‘fuck me’? I didn’t mean to say that just like you didn’t mean to say ‘not right now’.”

Matty grins as he finishes explaining, “But your you. You never let me get a word in edgeways which most of the time I love, but yesterday you didn’t let me get a chance to say that I fancy the fuck out of you.”

Your eyes go wide and you immediately shake your head, “No you don’t”

“Believe me I do.” Matty assures you, but you still don’t look like you believe him, “I don’t think you understand just how much though.”

“Because you don’t fancy me Matty. Stop trying to be nice” You shake your head and go to turn around but Mattys hand finds your hip and stops you turning.

Matty tells you honestly, “I’d say I’ve fancied you since we were out at that bar months ago and The Sound came on and you were dancing to it singing it to us.”

Matty grins as he continues, “And you did that thing I do on stage for the playing with yourself lyrics and I fully gulped. And then you pulled me up to dance with you and I loved listening and watching you sing my song at me.”

“A little narcissistic of you that Matty” You can’t help but say as you wipe away the tears that had sneaked down your eyes.

“Well it's lucky you like me anyway so I don’t even have to pretend it’s not.” Matty grins tucking a strand of your messy bed hair behind your ear. “Plus you looked really fucking good in those leather pants and you had the cutest most excited look on your face when you got me up dancing”

You giggle a little then and you half smile at him trying to make the tears stop. Matty helps with that by gently brushing his thumb over the bow sensitive skin under your eyes.

“So my beautiful and wonderful Y/N…” Matty likes the way you smile when he says that, “You need to stop crying because today I planned on wooing my best friend with cookies in exchange for a kiss and later on I was gunna get on my knees and beg my best friend to go out with me.”

You grin as you joke, “George is a lucky boy, isn’t he?”

“Shut up” Matty giggles.

You whisper a little, with a grin on your face, “Especially lucky for the get on your knees part.”

He gives you a knowing look then, but he just grins and asks, “How’s the head injury? Still making you spill your secrets I see”

You smile a little but only answer his question, “My head hurts from crying so it’s not a lot better.”

“Please stop crying.” Matty begs, ”I’d never leave you especially after that. I’m sorry I didn’t stay in bed, I just wanted to do something for you because you never got to finish making the cookies yesterday”

“You’re cute” You smile.

Matty mirrors it, “So are you.”

You smile at him and your eyes flick between both of his. He looked so gorgeous, yet so sleep deprived.

You're about to ask him about his sleep but Matty gets a question in there before you. “Can I kiss you now?”

Your eyes go wide, “No.”

“I feel vile, I’m all disgusting” You add sniffling a bit because you were all bunged up.

“Y/N you know how disgusting I am, do you really think I care?” Matty chuckles a little, again wiping away a stray tier.

You look into those gorgeous eyes and tell him, “I care”

Matty just pouts, looking down to your lips, “I wanna kiss you.”

You smile at his eagerness but softly plead, “Please wait until I’ve stopped crying.”

“Fine.” Matty says, “You win this one” and then he kisses your forehead.

You smile at the contact and Matty pulls you into a hug which you greatly appreciate. You tightly hug him back and you sort of melt into his warm body.

You feel another kiss being placed to the top of your head and you smile feeling that. “Come on Darling, gotta give you more of that truth serum” Matty says, knowing you needed more painkillers.

You giggle then but you pause when you recognise a familiar smell. You pull out of the hug and say, “Matty the cookies”

Matty immediately smelled the burning batch then too. He rushed his way over to your oven then saying, “Shit shit shit”

~*~*~*~

After the burnt cookies made it out of the oven and you helped him with a normal batch, you spent the day together. Him still looking after you like he did yesterday but this time he was overtly flirting with you all day.

You had to admit that you did love it. The fact he actually liked you back was something you were still a little shocked by but by the time you were sitting down eating your lunch together you’d talked through things a lot.

Matty had told you that he wanted to take you out later to a bar for some quiet drinks, and he said he had every intention of kissing you when he brought you back. You tried not to show how that made you feel bit Matty knew how you hid things so when he cupped your cheeks and felt how hot they were he teased you about being silently on board with the idea.

But the more you thought about actually going out with him, the more you wished it didn’t happen whilst you had a head injury. The last thing you wanted was to go out to a bar and have noisy people around you.

Matty himself was a handful sometimes and if you were honest you didn’t really want to get yourself ready to go out in public. You’d rather just stay in with the man himself.

So you thought you’d ask if he’d put a pin in the idea for now.

“Matty” You say once you come back into the lounge. As you sit yourself down on the settee beside him you ask, “You know how you said you’d get on your knees and ask me out later?”

Matty gives you a little playful grin then and answers, “Yeah?”

“Can you do that maybe in a day or two?” You ask him a little hesitantly. You also explain, “I still don’t feel all that great and I’d like to enjoy our date when we go out.”

“Thought you’d like me on my knees for you?” Matty teases a bit, shuffling himself a little closer to you.  

You’re both facing each other on the settee now. The side of your heads are resting against the back of the cushioned surface and you’re just smirking at each other.

You run your tongue over your bottom lip as his playful look continues. Despite the teasing remark though, you continue with your honesty.

“I’d probably love it a lot more when I don’t have a splitting headache and I’ve not been crying all morning.” You grin and Matty chuckles a little before resting a hand on your knee.  

“That’s fine” Matty smiles, letting his hand rub your knee soothingly. “What would you like to do instead?”

You quite liked that he didn’t want to leave despite you postponing the date. It gave you more assurance that he was still interested, even though he’d assured you several times now that he was.  

You suggest, “Netflix?”

“And chill?” Matty suggests with a teasing smirk.  

You can’t help but laugh, “We will see.”

The rest of the day surprisingly goes pretty fast. That may have been yours and Matty’s weird thing around each other though because whenever you were together it seemed like time just flew by.

You both went on a walk around the park near where you lived as a way to break up the day. It was a walk filled with Matty now being very cheeky with you and he found every excuse to put his hands on you.

The most memorable time being when you were standing in the queue at the little cafe that was there so you could get yourselves a sandwich. His arms had snaked around your waist from behind and he pulled you into him for everyone to see.

His touchiness didn’t even die down when you got to the lady who was serving. If anything he was even more attentive to you as he called you ‘Darling’ and ‘Babe’ when he was asking what food and drink you wanted.

The lady serving you seemed amused by your first ‘lovers quarrel’ over who was paying for what. Something which Matty ended up doing because he wasn’t taking no for an answer. You’d be sure to buy him something at some point to make up for it though.

But before either of you knew it you were curled up together on your settee with the lights on low as you watched your films. They weren’t anything intense, they were just shitty comedies like Zoolander and Step Brothers. Just films that you could chat over but then also pay attention to if you wanted a break from the chatting.

You don’t really know how you got into the position but in this moment in time you were curled up against Matty with your legs over his and he had his head on your shoulder as you watched the film. It was needless to say you felt so much better than you did this morning.

Maybe you should have been honest from the get go and you could have been experiencing this for a lot longer. You certainly looked forward to the cute innocent cuddles you’d have in the future as Matty had made it clear he was interested.

You must have got lost in your head for a moment though, because Matty’s lips gently meeting your neck was something that brought you straight back to reality. It was just a gentle peck which made you smile towards the TV and you just carried on playing with his hair like he’d not done anything.

But then he did it again for a little longer and then again a little bit higher up your neck. It was only when Matty carried on his little adventure that your fingers laced into his hair to encourage him.

You felt him grin into your neck then and he slowly worked his way up your neck like a teenager exploring that section of skin for the first time. You of course tilted your head to the side to give him more room and you both had a little giggle at that both being fully aware of what the other was doing.

When Matty started nipping on your neck you let your eyes close to bask in the sensations he was bringing to you. You felt like it was ten times better than what anyone else had done before, but maybe that was because you really fancied him.

Whatever the reason though, you didn’t want his lips to stop. And thankfully they didn’t.

Matty teased your neck until he was itching to kiss your lips. So much so that he silently pleaded to himself that you’d let him now your tears had long dried up.

“Can I please kiss you properly now?” Matty asks against your neck after another minute of the sweet torture.

You pull on his hair so his lips detached from your neck and when he looked up at you and his sweet brown eyes met yours. You nodded a, “Yes please”

And Matty didn’t need to be told twice.

Matty’s pillowy lips meet yours and you instantly melt. The nervousness that you felt building before every first kiss you’d ever had was gone and you let yourself enjoy it.

For Matty it was everything he hoped it would be. Your soft lips meeting for kisses every single time and when you brought your hand up to cup his face it was indication that you liked it enough for it to continue.

Your lips moved against each other’s almost cautiously as you both softly go in for the kisses you’d been starving yourselves of all day. Even though they were sweet and innocent, you couldn’t help your heart beating erratically in your chest.

You think it meant more to you because you liked him and have done for a while. Kisses like this weren’t the same as the ones you get when you were after a quick pull at a club. These meant something and the fact you were both gentle and almost hesitant with them proved that.

After a minute you both pull away, Matty pressing his forehead against yours so you could feel his curls tickle your face but you didn’t mind in the slightest. Your hands had chosen to cup his cheek and his neck so you really weren’t that fussed about his curls, if anything you welcomed them now you knew he didn’t mind you being close.

In this pause to catch your breaths you never really lost, Matty decided to tell you with a grin, “You’ll be pleased to know I definitely like you”

You giggle at that and let your fingers lace back into his curls before saying, “You’re a cheesy fucker” before you pull him in to meet your lips again.

It was less hesitant from both of you this time as the joke caused you both to smile into it a little. But it gets a little more forward after that.

They were more confident kisses this time which was slowly setting your skin on fire. And you both got that into them that the next time you knew what was going on you were leaning backwards with Matty’s lips still meeting yours meaning he was slowly trapping you between him and the settee.

Thankfully there were definitely worse places to be trapped. You would choose this form of imprisonment every time.

When Matty deepened the kiss it caused the both of you to whimper a bit. Mostly because of the way you pulled on his curls to encourage it and the fact that Matty’s hand had found your hip and he held you against him tightly.

The kisses only got braver from then on. Both of you now fully getting off on your settee with absolutely no intention of stopping anytime soon.

The only time you pause is when it’s getting a little intense for you because the lump on the back of your head was pressed into the harder part of the arm of the settee. So the next time Matty’s lips trail down your neck to allow you both to get some air, you let him know in your own sarcastic way.

“Matty” You half whine, loving the way he was kissing your neck now.

“Yes baby?” Matty asks and the pet name causes your stomach to flip. Hearing that fall from his lips in the position you were both in definitely felt good.

“I know I'm a good kisser and everything so it's not a shock I’m clouding your mind, but I had a head injury yesterday and you kissing me the way you are is pushing my head into the settee and it’s starting to hurt again.” You ramble honestly keeping your fingers tightly laced into his curls.

Matty chuckles into your neck then before placing one last kiss there for now. He then leans up and pecks your lips once more.

“Sorry baby” Matty says, pulling you up into a different position. You're straddling his hips then and Matty leans back against the settee with a grin plastered onto his lips, “This better for you?”

“Cocky little shit, aren’t you?” You laugh shaking your head at him.

Matty laughs too but he backchats, “Says you… You’re the one that just said your kisses were that good they left me with no memory”

“Well” You grin, pecking his lips teasingly once more before saying, “I’m speaking from experience”

“Come here” Matty says shaking his head, pulling you back down to him with the hand that cups your neck and you note a playful grin on his lips, “We will see whos mind goes foggy”

You end up kissing him like that for a long while just enjoying this new dynamic with each other. You had to admit to yourself that he was a really good kisser, but that shouldn’t really have surprised you, his tongue was out a lot in the Love Me video and he had it out half the time when he teased the crowd when he was on stage.

He definitely knew how to use it.

After the both of you calmed yourselves down, you cuddled yourselves up against each other much like earlier on as you carried on watching another shitty comedy. You watched them into the night again and you only noticed you half dozed off when you felt a soft kiss being pressed to your neck again.

“Matty” You murmur after feeling another lone tired kiss against the skin on your neck.

He must pick up on what you’re about to suggest because he asks, “Can I stay again?”

You nod and say, “Course”

You wanted to kiss and cuddle him for a lot longer than you already had been doing.

“Let’s go to bed, love” Matty says, picking his head up out of your neck and pecks your lips once more.

It leaves a warm feeling in your chest as you turn everything off downstairs before heading to bed.

When you get up to your room Matty’s arm travels around your waist and he hugs you into him. You lean back against him and smile at the feeling of his curls against your skin as he nuzzles himself into your neck again.

“You smell really good” He tells you before placing a kiss to the place where your neck meets your shoulder.

You grin at that, “Thanks, I think it’s just you though. All I can smell is your aftershave”

“Don’t feed the narcissism Darling” Matty spins you around then, “Take the compliment.”

You giggle before you kiss him again, this time with no hesitation at all. Your fingers lace into his curly locks and you pull on it hungrily to keep him close as he continues to walk you back into your bedroom.  

They are just playful kisses coming from the both of you. Nothing too intense at all.

You like the feeling of Matty’s arms wrapped around your lower back pulling you into his body. You like the fact that he wanted you close, because you wanted him just the same.

You both pull away giggling a little when Matty almost trips the both of you over from moving towards your bed a little too fast. But thankfully it just ends in a playful, “Need to slow down. I’d feel bad if I gave you another concussion”

“I get it… I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages

“Well you can kiss me whenever you want” Matty grins pulling you down to straddle his lap which you do.  

“Good to know” You giggle before kissing his pillowy lips again.

After a few more kisses, you’re both very aware of the tiredness creeping its way into your systems despite the new sensations you’re both getting from your lips attacking the others.

“Y/N/N, Darling, you’ve got my joggers on” Matty grins knowing that they are what you gave him to wear last night.

You grin, “You’re right” and then you get up off his lap and grab yourself some new pyjamas from your drawer.

“I can only apologise mister Healy” You say with a smirk as you push them down your legs and step out of them.

Matty wasn’t exactly expecting you to strip in front of him tonight but the fact your gorgeous legs were on display to him for a minute he didn’t stop himself from looking. Your very oversized hoodie now acts as a dress as it hides your underwear from his gaze.

Matty just couldn't take his eyes away from your legs though. He didn’t think he’d ever seen you in a skirt or a dress so actually seeing you in front of him like that just led to new thoughts circling his mind. Or his mind was until you hastily picked them up and launched the scrunched up joggers at his head.

“Ey” Matty called back playfully, holding the joggers in his hands now.

You point to your eyes and silently tell him that is where they are with a knowing grin on your lips. Matty can only press his lips together as an apology before you head to your bathroom to change again like you did the night before.

He didn’t need to get everything on the first day.

After changing and doing your nightly routine you come back to your bedroom to find Matty changed into your joggers and no top like last night and you don’t shy your eyes away from his tattoos this time when he walks past you to use the bathroom himself. Matty catches you looking but he doesn’t comment on it and at this point you don’t really care.

When he gets in bed beside you and he pulls you in to cuddle him you bring him out of his thoughts, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Course” Matty says, not having anything to hide from you. Especially if you were going to work out in the end, and he had every intention of you both working out.  

“Do you really not try? Because I always thought you would be the opposite” You ask him curiously, more truths spilling from your lips thanks to your meds.  

Matty asks curiously, “Not try what?” brushing your hair behind your ear so he could see your cute face.

But pout, a little embarrassed, “Don’t make me say it.”

“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.” Matty chuckles, looking at how shy you’d all of a sudden become.  

“In your song yesterday.” You say and it brings Matty a bit more clarity on what you were asking, “You said you lied and you’d never fucked in a car”

Matty grins knowing exactly what you were asking now, but he teases, “So what’s your question?”

“You know my question, why are you making me say it?” You chuckle, getting more flustered with each passing second.

Matty leans down and pecks your lips once before he tells you, “Because you’re cute when you get embarrassed.”

You sigh and whine into his neck, needing to hide when you ask, “Do you actually just lie down and not try?”

“See” Matty chuckles, “Wasn’t that hard to say, was it?”

“Just answer my question.” You whine embarrassed that your stupid fucking meds just let you ask anything under the sun.

“Why don’t you just wait and find out?” Matty giggles, pulling your out of his neck a little bit.

He found it very cute that that was the only thing you got out of his song when you were drugged up the previous day. At least you’d told him you liked it though.  

“Because I’m nervous now. I thought you’d be the opposite.” You say honestly, “And after earlier I’m confused”

“Why are you nervous?” Matty asks looking into your gorgeous Y/E/C eyes, wanting you to feel comfortable with him, “We aren’t doing anything right now.”

“I know.” You say, and then shrug, “Guess you just spoil my fantasies by saying you haven’t fucked in a car.”

“We can fuck in a car if you like?” Matty teasingly offers before leaning in to kiss you again. He mumbles against your lips, “It won’t be a fantasy then.”

You giggle at that but don’t hesitate to kiss him back. When he pulls away you keep him close and as your nose brushes against his, you suggest, “One step at a time, ey?”

Matty loves the little eskimo kiss you’re giving him enough to carry it on for a few more seconds after he nods in response to your suggestion. God you were so cute, he was very lucky that you liked him.

“Can I keep you on these drugs?” Matty questions, “They make you very truthful.”

You roll your eyes when he says, “Quite like you complimenting me and asking me questions you wouldn’t usually. It feeds the ego more.”

You giggle at that.

“Don’t really have much to hide from you anymore.” You tell him truthfully.

Matty wants a little confirmation, surprised by you saying that, “No?”

“Nope” You grin.

“I’m quite glad you like me Darling” Matty says, tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m glad you like me back Hun” You grin and kiss him again.

The sweet kiss lasts for a couple of seconds before Matty pulls away so you’re both cuddled against each other again now. You definitely liked being close to him and you were glad he was the cuddly type.

But then he makes a joke that makes you playfully smack his chest as you giggle. Of course, your Matty jokes, “Can’t wait to tell our kids you asked me to fuck you and then fainted”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You can add yourself to my Taglists in my Masterlist x

[sweetberrysmooch]

HC: Call This The ‘Can This Man Cook’ Section

(….. I don’t think these men can cook 😔)

First post pog :D I wrote a majority of these super late at night, so please forgive and let me know of any mistakes you find <3 Also, it’s a little long lol

Characters: Dream, George, SapNap, Badboyhalo, Wilbur, Technoblade, Philza, Quackity, Fundy, Schlatt.

Warnings: None, except for a kinda risqué comment in Philza’s. Oh and I guess there’s mentions of eating meat in case someone wants the warning :3

Song Recommendation: I Love You So- The Walters

Hella fluffy! Hope you enjoy <3

From best to worst:

#1: BadBoyHalo-

Bad is the best at cooking on the server. He is the creme of the crop, absolute top one percent, king shit at cooking.

He can cook, bake, and temper chocolate perfectly, what more could you want?

His favorite to-go recipes are cheesy garlic bread and a special spicy chicken and rice recipe which he typically makes when the boys are over at his house for the night. When he’s with you he goes for something a little smoother, some mulled sweet berry cider with a smoked cod fillet, eaten under the light of candles while you quietly chat about life and your fellow friends. It’s always one of Bad’s most anticipated hangouts, and he’s very careful about planning when it comes to those days.

While he appreciates being complimented on his food or his skills, deep down he wants to have someone to cook and share his knowledge with so the cooking process becomes much richer. He’s cooked for so long and learned so much, but it means nothing if he can’t share it with another person. The moment you come to him and ask him for help on any kind of recipe, he’ll drop almost everything to help you.

Side note; he absolutely carried lunch and dinner for his fellow DTeam members. While Sapnap would mostly take over breakfast, Bad would be hounded by begging puppy looks from these adult men who couldn’t cook and kind of just sigh and get the ‘kiss the cook’ apron ready. It’s not like he hates it or anything, but the endearing factor kinda slips off after a few years of adult men groveling.

(Bad’s hands rest over yours, dwarfing them entirely as he helps you cut the pasta sheet straightly. “There you go!” He encourages, squeezing your hand gently and stepping away, moving back to dice the vegetables on the cutting board next to you. A comfortable silence falls, and with it comes something in Bad’s heart softening. The worries and exhaustion in his mind ease, and he slips into a contented routine of finely chopping and slicing. It’s been a while since he’s felt so calm. There’s nothing that can ruin this- 

The front door slams open. Footsteps walk in and approach the kitchen and you both hear it, 

“Baaaaaaaaad.” Bad cringes, taking a step back.

“Baaaaaaaaaaad, we’re hungry.” Sapnap. 

“Yeah Bad, feeeeeeeed uuuuuuus.” George. 

And then, from around the door frame, a white mask peeks in. Nobody says a word, but you can feel Bad deflate next to you like let go balloon. 

“It’s alright, big guy.” You laugh, grabbing his forearm and leaning up against him. His sad puppy eyes make you smile a little, and you try to reassure him. “We can hang out alone another time. Let’s keep working on the pasta.” He sighs, but still returns your smile. “Yeah, another time.”)

#2: Philza 

Sigh…. he can cook. Not quite as good as Bad can, but better than Quackity. A solid second place. It stems mainly from being so knowledgeable that he just knows and has tried so many different foods, but since he doesn't actually do much cooking, I'm making him a flaky second place.

Doesn’t mind cooking, but doesn’t love doing it either. He’s always focused on so many different things that he’ll forgo eating to keep working on what he’s doing. He mostly cooks for Techno and Ranboo or the few guests (you) they seem to receive. Makes great stew, and even better roasted chicken, is absolutely immaculate when it comes to cooking bird.

He didn’t teach Wilbur or Techno shit! I wish I could say it’s because he wanted to but just couldn’t, but he was literally like “hmm. Im a little busy now, maybe next year” every year!! But, this being said, if you ask him to make something with you or teach you how to cook a particular dish, he will agree to help you. Old age has really mellowed him out, and after certain events, he realizes he needs to stay a bit closer to those he cares about from now on.

He likes sweets well enough, and will always thank you for any gifts you make for him. Along with growing older, he’s had time to lose his pickiness he had in his youth. If he does end up cooking with you, he’ll prefer doing the harder recipes over easy ones. He will lose it laughing if it turns out bad, so don’t worry about any disappointment (his children make up enough of that ^^).

(“Now,” Phil starts, washing his hands quickly as you wait for him next to the cutting board. “Pufferfish needs to be prepared perfectly, or we will die when we eat it. But I don’t need to explain to you how a pufferfish works, now do I?” 

When you shake your head no, he comes up behind you, tarnished wings bound and hair pulled up in a pony tail. 

“The meat of a pufferfish is very delectable, and much better with a glass of wine.” He grins cheekily, “ If this works out well, which I’m sure it will, dinner will be delicious.” 

It falls quiet for a second, and as your hesitantly looking over the fish that may be your last, you gasp when you feel him press up against you back and rest his chin on your shoulder. “Maybe there’ll be other delicious things to eat as well,” He murmurs into you ear, before leaning back and busting out laughing. Your face feels stupidly hot. Dilfza quest activated.)

#3: Quackity-

Quackity:

Quackity can cook. I know!! I’d say he’s like the third best cooker on the list. And he’s not half bad at baking either.

He likes making up stupid bad recipes and trying them out with you, even if at the end of it the one of you up chucks your damned creations the hour after. Despite his reigning need for chaos though, he knows how to make a decent amount of recipes and strives for praise when he’s actually putting forward effort. He’ll arrange little dinner dates (“A handsome man and his very pretty friend, good food made by yours truly, and La Chona, what do you say, baby?”) and will sit there with a 🥺 look on his face until you tell him if you liked it or not.

He tries to act like he’s unaffected by your words, but even a small, “That was really good.” will make him turn red and giggle like a schoolgirl. He tries to play it off, but it’s easy to tell he loves the complements. Will also never tell you anything you make is bad. You are a deity descended upon  minecraft Earth and he is but your prettiest disciple who will uphold your honor and treat you like you should be treated!!!! But he’ll then promptly choose to help you with and guide you into cooking/baking better ^^; He loves you!

As for baking, he really likes making cakes because of how simple they can be. It helps calm him down when he can just slip into bake mode and follow a recipe and make something nice at the end of it. Speaking of, he also has a sweet tooth, but not quite as bad as Techno does. Any sweets or food you make for him is always eaten, and always held in high regard. Will try to entice you into feeding him 👀👀 so watch out.

(He’s doing it again. You try to avoid looking directly at the dopey lovesick smile Quackity has on his face at the moment, but as you lift the fork up, you get a better idea. 

You look at him (to which he seems to melt a little under your gaze), look at the fork, and then back to him, raising the piece of cake up to his lips. His expression turns flabbergasted and his blush deepens. 

He doesn’t seem to believe you for a second, until you nudge the cake close and flash him a smile. Then it’s like a switch has been flicked; he giggles, blushing, and eats the cake right off the fork. He’s gone back to smiling that silly smile again, this time even brighter, but it’s okay. You try to ignore the way your heart speeds up in your chest when he begs you for another piece.)

#4: Schlatt-

Another cooker~! He specializes with formal dinners more than anything else, and adores a good steak.

During his presidency, he didn’t cook very often. Quackity and you had to keep him fed through most of it, and the memory of watching you cook in his kitchen while he looked over work papers at his dining table leaves a mark on him, sealing a new crave for domesticity that he hadn’t ever wanted before.

Sometimes he would cook though. You, Quackity, and Tubbo would all gather around and eat together every once in a blue moon, when Schlatt was sober and calm. It feels tense at the table but also not in a way? Schlatt always seems to be chillest during dinner, a mix of the alcohol wearing off and the emphatic family feel that comes with Tubbo, Quackity, and you surrounding him.

He loves cake! It’s one of the few desserts he’ll eat, but you have to watch him closely or he’ll gorge himself of the treat. Indulge him and invite him to make a cake with you, and it will be one of the most interesting bakes of your life. How Schlatt got three eggs to stick to the ceiling is beyond you, but the look in his eyes tells you he’s completely fucking sober and hamming up his own cluelessness. You probably wouldn’t have even noticed if it weren’t for him hiding all the other eggs around your kitchen as well. How did he get one on the top of your door without it falling when you opened it? That’s between him and god.

Overall, a good 4th place on the list.

(“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Schlatt says, deadpanned, looking you right in the fucking eyes with an undisturbed egg sitting perfectly straight on his head. 

“Where are the eggs, Schlatt.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Schlatt.” 

“Yes.” 

The container you kept them in is completely empty on your kitchen counter, once full of eggs but now reduced to a desolate husk of its former glory. Speaking of former glories, your president turns around, arms crossed and stands there silently. 

You look around. Theres one in the door handle of in the pantry, another wedged between two slices of bread in your bread box, and- oh god. On the fucking ceiling. Three, stuck to the ceiling, unmovable. After a full minute of dead silence you manage a “What the fuck have you done?”, and Schlatt turns to look. 

“Oh hey. There they are.” Your mind turns into a rock, shatters, and crumbles into dust.)

#5: Dream-

Honestly if you’re looking for edible food that tastes range from ok to good Dream is your man. 5th place.

He knows a lot of ‘depression era’ type recipes just because he’s pretty homeless and his man hunts don’t allow him much time to hone his skills. Stuff like bread or mushroom stew comes easy to him after so many times of having to do it on the run. Bread is the only baking he won’t screw up.

Can cook meat well enough too, but doesn’t really do anything special to it (besides his sauces).

To elaborate: Over the unknown span of his life, he’s acquired these recipes for forgotten and questionable sauces that he’ll store in little jars and leave at your house for you to use. They’re odd, and the ingredients aren’t ever what you think might be edible, but they’re surprisingly tasty none the less. He likes to show you a new one every month or so to keep things fresh.

Pretty general about sweets, but has a severe love for chocolate, especially dark chocolate. Has never had one, but dreams about chocolate cake. It’s high on his bucket list and written another four times over.

One of his favorite things to do with you is bake, mainly because of how ruinous it always turns out. No matter your skill, Dream’s vibes decimates any luck the two of you will have while baking. It’s scientifically proven. You left the cupcakes in for a minute-JUST a minute over what they should’ve been and they came out rock solid. Dream tried to eat one anyway. Best part was watching him try to bite through the shell.)

(He thinks he’s over selling it, half-gnawing on the brown cupcake (it was supposed to be vanilla, he thought) and making stupid growls when his teeth barely break through the surface, but the feeling he gets when you start laughing hysterically next to him wipes away any negative thought he had and fills him with utter joy. 

It's very late into the night, and you’re both a little loopy, but all the while you still lean against him as you giggle, the spot tingling where your hand rests on his arm. 

His heart thumps crazily, before sinking. Oh god. He’s in love with you.)

#6: Technoblade-

Knows a lot, but very little. He can cook the meat perfectly fine, but there’s a difference between being cooked and tasting good. He doesn’t know how to season them. Salt is the bare minimum you get.

6th place ^^; sorry king.

He’s good with potatoes though. I like to think that the countless hours spent potato farming had to account for something. He likes having cheese and butter on them every once in a while, but for the most part just eats them salted like an animal. It’s practically a show to watch him eat a cooked potato in three bites without anything but salt on it.

Big man loves food though, even if he doesn’t eat like it. Steak and cooked fish are high on his list of foods, but only if it’s cooked by Philza. And eventually you fall into his “I trust to eat this from you” category as well, but he has a special place in his heart for Phil’s cooking. Rabbit stew is at the very top.

He also eats a lot, being 6’10 and 200 something pounds of muscle, gotta consume quite a bit to keep him moving.

As for the sweeter variety of food, he’s got a massive sweet tooth. The moment you make him an apple pie or honey candy or anything of the like, he’s immediately enamored with you. Sweet things are hard to come by on the smp, especially with how far out he lives, but it’s a secret weakness of his that is very easily exploitable.

(You’ll be the death of him, he thinks, watching you closely as you trudge your way through the freshly fallen snow towards his house. Your normal pack is lighter than it usually looks, and he worries that you may slip and hurt yourself on the ice before you make it to the door. But still, you keep walking until you're standing at his doorstep, fist raised to knock when he opens it for you. 

You look surprised for a second, and then a grin splits your face and his heart races. 

“I can’t stay for long,” you say, having spent at least 30 minutes to get there. “But I wanted to drop this off for you before you went out to hunt again.” 

Out of the bag, you pull another smaller leather bag and hand it to him gently. It rests heavy in his palm, and for a moment he’s sure it’s ender pearls that you’ve brought him. But still he opens it, and he’s immediately taken aback by the smooth golden candies you brought him. 

“They’re honey candies.” At this point you’re practically grinning. “I thought you might like some while I was making them last night.” 

He doesn’t have to see his own face to feel the deep blush setting in on his cheeks and ears. You…. you’re so…… sweet. You are very…. sweet, he admits to himself, and he is very not attached to you. Not at all.)

#7: Fundy and Sapnap tie.

Fundy- 

Has his old man's cluelessness but is a fast learner. He doesn’t have much time to expand his food repertoire so it’s pretty much the basic stuff that he’s eaten during the war or before that when he was younger.

He really likes cooking though, and will invite you to come cook with him for dinner or lunch if he wants to hang out. When they were together, Dream had given him an old dusty cookbook that had several recipes he hadn’t ever heard of before, so that’s where most of what he tries to make comes from. His favorite to date was a special mutton dish that he asked you to try with him on his last birthday. It was just the two of you, but he had never had so much fun before.

Doesn’t like eating fish however, there’s just some bad vibe he gets when he thinks about cooking one or catching one. (Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Desperately ignores the fish fucker. Despera-)

Loves sweet berries as treats, seeing as that’s the only sweet thing he grew up with. Not too big on other sweet flavors. Likes honey in his tea though.

7th place cooker, will get higher as he learns more dishes.

(He raises his wine high with a laugh, clinking your glass with it as you both giggle drunkenly. 

The lamb you had cooked together turned out amazing, juicy and tender and flavored with crimson fungus juice. The recipe was from an old cookbook he had, he faintly remembers telling you, hiding the fact that it was Dream’s cookbook that he was given after a particularly nasty argument. 

He doesn’t want to think about him, especially not while he’s with you. Especially not when it’s his birthday. 

So instead he ponders the trip through the nether he took with you to harvest some of the fungi, how the juice was tangy and slightly bitter, but how it had done wonders when basted onto the meat while frying. 

You had looked so happy when you two plated the dish, so proud of him, all in a way that Dream never was. 

Even now, as you tiredly smile at him from across the table, cheeks pink and eyes focused solely on the moment you were sharing, he feels at peace for once. This is what contentment felt like. Oh, how he loves you so.)

Sapnap-

Shame the shit cooker. Ok ok, he’s not as bad as some of the others on this list, but that’s just because he can make a half decent breakfast. It’s not much competition.

Bad has desperately tried to teach this boy some cooking besides eggs and toast, but the only things that seem to have stuck are mashed potatoes and grilled pork chops. Neither of which he even likes enough to make often.

He prefers fish to meat, and would eat any kind of cod you offered to him. Likes smoked salmon a lot, it’s something Bad made for him a lot when he was younger. He tries to recreate the dish, but comes up short and feels disheartened when it isn’t like Bad’s. He’d appreciate any time you took with him to learn how to make the dish, and it wholly sticks to his mind afterwards. He never forgets the experience, and treasures it very closely.

Likes not-sweet sweets. Not bitter per say, but just not very sweet. He likes chewy taffy in particular, but the old lady kind that lasts 60 years but gets hard in 6 minutes after being exposed to open air. Gotta be polite about it too, or he’ll end up embarrassed and pout for an hour.

(He’s eaten 6 of those fucking taffies since you sat down on the couch, completely straight-faced as the two of you of you listen to Dream and George talking. 

At this point you’re completely checked out of their conversation, solely focused on the taffy Sapnap keeps eating. Where does he even get those? How many does he have?? You’ve been friends with him long enough to have seen him pop a taffy every other second of the day. He seems to have a stash on him at all times tucked away, filled with paper-wrapped pastel covered sweets. 

“Want one?” Sapnap asks, holding out a light blue taffy with a little star drawn in yellow dye on the wrapper. 

“What?” Startled, you lean back a bit and realize you had been staring him down as he ate, and flush with how rude that probably seemed. 

“Want a taffy? I don’t mind sharing with you, cutie.” He winks and offers the taffy again. “....” You gaze at the taffy curiously. You’ve never seen him offer another person one of his precious taffies before. Hmm. “...Yes, thanks.” 

You take it delicately, unwrapping the wrapper and taking a bite of it experimentally. It’s very lightly sweet, soft and chewy and surprisingly pleasant. 

Sapnap watches you from the corner of his eye, softly smiling when he sees you eat the rest of it. Glad to see someone else has good tastes around here.)

#8. George-

Meager man makes a meager meal. I said what I said!!! This flatbread boy knows diddly squat, and the only things he can cook successfully are bread and mushroom soup. Which he will make. And that’s all he’ll make. Any food that isn’t that is cooked by either Bad or Dream, and he’s still picky about it.

He’ll make you the soup and bread ladies and gents. I’m not saying they’ll taste great together, but he will definitely make them for you. Anything else he’s pretty critical about, and he doesn’t care much for treats or dessert. He does occasionally like dark chocolate though, which he and Dream will beg Bad to make for them. Soon he begs you to make it for him, and then you have to go ask Bad how he makes it so George won’t complain about how it tastes different from Bads. It’s a weird situation. You make a lot of chocolate. Dream and George linger at your house for weeks on end until you get fed up and shoo them away with a broom.

To his credit, even though he can’t cook much, he’s really proud of his mushroom stew. Any time you let him cook, his go-to is his mushroom stew. He likes to feed you and know that you’re not hungry somewhere, and to top it off he gets to show you his prized dish; not Bad’s or Dream’s stew, but his. He’s cute or whateva…

(George places the bowl down in front you, stepping back and turning to grab his own, before sitting down next to you. He immediately begins to eat, and you give him a half glance as you bring the soup up to smell it. 

It… doesn’t smell that bad, actually. Not burnt, at least. You spoon some of the soup into your mouth. 

Despite all you’ve seen of George’s cooking, this is pretty well made. It’s nice and warm, and the flavors are rich and the mushrooms soft. You choose to ignore the small smile of his face next to you, and keep eating your soup quietly together.)

#9: Wilbur

Wilbur can’t cook for shit. Literally nothing. This man knows apples grow from trees and that animals are made of meat and that’s it.

You think Wilbur made any of his food when he was president or exiled or ever? Not a chance. He ate anything given to him, Tubbo and Tommy absolutely brought this man all the food they could find so he wouldn’t get eat straight trash or starve throughout the presidency. Techno slid him bare cooked potatoes in Pogtopia and he thought “oh this slaps….. this is the pinnacle of food”

Which I know, not really sexy. But! This means that the moment you feed him something a step up from a bare cooked potato he is in food heaven. He especially loves saucier kinds of foods with lots of flavor and spice to them, it’s just so fucking good. Food becomes his kryptonite after you feed this silly man.

With sweets, however, he isn’t that much of a fan. He does like those small lemon creme crackers, and you and da boys are the only ppl he’ll share them with.

(You hear him before you see him. The familiar clambering at your window draws your attention away from the pork you were dicing, and one look over your shoulder shows a disheveled but grinning Wilbur. 

“I hope I’m not too late for dinner.” He jokes, brushing off his pants before approaching you to press a kiss to your temple. Soon after that you hear another set of clambering, and two pairs of stomps reveals one Tommy and one Tubbo respectively. 

“What’s for dinner tonight, mate?” 

“Hope you don’t mind if we join in!” 

You sigh, turning back to hide your smile before they can see it.)

// Hope you enjoyed! I might write a pt2 of this later with some other ppl in it lol we’ll see :3

[flourgirl]

When The Party’s Over

Part II to “Even If It’s a Lie”

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader, Peter Parker x Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn x Reader

Summary: The closer that Peter gets to Gwen, the more he realizes how irreplaceable you are to him.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: A few curse words here and there.

A/N: There’s going to be a third and final part to this story, so if you’d like to be tagged in it, please shoot me an ask or a reply and I’ll gladly add you to the tag list. Hope you guys enjoy this new part and happy reading :-)

“Counted all my mistakes and there's only one Standing out from the list of the things I've done All the rest of my crimes don't come close To the look on your face when I let you go” -Where Do Broken Hearts Go, One Direction

It had been 17 days since you had last seen Peter and all you could do was sit in your favorite coffee shop and stare at all the muffins in the case. Peter loved muffins. His favorite flavor was banana nut, and usually the two of you would jam out to all of your favorite songs while you waited for them to come out of the oven.

“Y/N,” Betty said, snapping you out of your daze, “Are you alright? You’ve been staring at the pastries for, like, five minutes.”

MJ put down whatever book she had decided to read this week. “Yeah, if you want one, go for it. You deserve it. Here, I’ll pay.” 

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wadded up $10 bill, dropping it onto the table in front of you, and returned to her book.

“You could get a slice of cheesecake,” Betty suggested. “I know how much you like the raspberry one from here.”

But all you could think about was how you wished Peter loved you the way that he loved those stupid banana nut muffins.

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, crossing your arms and closing your eyes to take in the soft jazz music that was playing alongside the chatter of the café. “But I’m keeping the ten bucks.”

“Maybe it would help take your mind off of things if you met someone new,” MJ suggested without even looking up at you. It was honestly amazing how she could carry on a conversation while still being so engrossed in her book.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Betty agreed, “You’re so smart, and pretty, and you made all of the baked goods currently taking up lots of precious space in our kitchen.”

“You’re a stress baker,” MJ added. She was right. Over the past two and a half weeks since that night, you had baked three cakes, four pies, and seven different kinds of bread. Maybe tonight wasn’t the night you tried out the new focaccia recipe you had been eyeing.

“I don’t know, guys,” you said, slinking further down into your chair. “I just don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing.”

“That’s okay,” Betty reassured you. “Take all the time you need. But we’re here for you, Y/N.”

And that’s how the rest of that day went. Lots of suggestions on ways to stop thinking about Peter and you shooting them down. No matter how Betty and MJ tried to make you feel better, your mind was stuck on the nine voicemails and thirty-two texts he had sent you saying how he was sorry for whatever he did and how he just wanted things to be normal again.

Except you didn’t want normal. You wanted him. You wanted his bad puns and the way his sweaters smelled when he let you borrow one. And the worst part was, he didn’t even know what he did wrong. He didn’t know that he had broken your heart.

----------------

It wasn’t like Peter didn’t like Gwen. She was outgoing and confident, and he liked how it felt like she was always the center of attention. People wanted to talk to her, or sit next to her, or even have her know that they existed.

But she wasn’t anything like you, and the more time that Peter spent with her, the more apparent that became. She didn’t rant about reality TV or get so overwhelmed during public speaking assignments that the only way she could calm down was with a hug from him. In many ways, she was perfect. Except for the fact that she wasn’t you.

“We’re still on for Flash’s party on Saturday, right?” Gwen asked as she walked with Peter out of the lecture hall where they learned about vascular mechanics.

Honestly, Peter hadn’t even remembered that she had asked him to go to that until she brought it up just now. He was too stressed out wondering whether or not you’d ever speak to him again. 

But what did he do to make you upset? He had promised that if you wanted to leave the party, you could tell him and the two of you would go. Except you never said anything. You just got up and left, without even saying goodbye. You hated him and it killed him to not know why.

Despite this, he wanted to be the good guy and not disappoint any more people, and so he took Gwen’s hand in his and said, “Yeah, definitely. I’ll be there.”

----------------

If someone had told you that you’d run into Harry Osborn in the middle of Arthur Avenue, you’d say they were crazy. And if that same someone said that you’d ask him on a date, they’d be even crazier. But somehow, some way, that’s exactly what happened.

You were on the way to interview a third-generation restaurant owner for your Italian class. You had never been very good at foreign languages, but you would use any excuse to take a trip to Little Italy. The nervous knots in your stomach from the possibility that they would only speak in a dialect that you couldn’t understand was worth it, because this little nook of the city was home to the best arancini in all of America.

To be honest, it seemed unbelievable that he’d be there, at that exact time, in that exact place to where you’d run right into him. You had been too busy reviewing the notes you had taken during the interview to see that you were on a direct path towards face planting into his torso.

“Fuck,” you grumbled, staring down at your notes scattered on the sidewalk at your feet. The guy you had just ran into kneeled down to gather them into a neat stack, handing them back to you.

“Y/N?” he asked, which caught you off guard. Who the hell was this? It wasn’t until you stared at his face for a few seconds that you recognized him. That guy that Gwen was with at the party. He looked a lot different in his button down and khakis compared to the sweatshirt and baseball cap he had on when you had first met him.

“Uh, hi. You’re Gwen’s friend, right? Henry.” You knew his name. You just didn’t plan on letting that you knew it.

“Yeah, but it’s Harry. Sorry about that, by the way. So, anyway, what brings you all the way down to Little Italy? It’s pretty far from campus,” he told you, as if you didn’t know that. I mean, you had walked all the way here, hadn’t you?

You shrugged, looking away from him. “I guess I could ask you the same thing.”

It was the first time in a while that someone wasn’t fawning over him just because he was rich. Honestly, it was really refreshing. “I asked first,” he noted, mimicking your crossed arms with a smirk.

Who does this guy think he is? 

“Listen,” you sighed. “I really don’t have time for this. I need to get back to my apartment and finish up writing this essay that’s due at midnight.”

“So you’re taking Italian, I presume?” he asked, it suddenly becoming quite clear as to what you were doing on the other side of the city.

“Yeah. And let me guess, you were eating brunch at some fancy, expensive restaurant that your dad owns, drinking some $100 bottle of wine while some nerd you pay does your homework, huh?”

“No,” he laughed. “I was helping put together Thanksgiving dinner baskets for underprivileged families down at the soup kitchen.”

It was only then that you noticed how annoyingly handsome he was. Essentially, he was the male version of Gwen. Same blonde hair and preppy style that just screamed “I have a trust fund.”

“Of course. What, did you need a good photo op ever since the Daily Bugle ran that issue where they called you a spoiled playboy who loves to party?”

You had no intentions of entertaining him, especially since he was a friend of Gwen’s. The girl that had kissed Peter right in front of you, and pretended like she couldn’t remember your name. The girl that Peter was probably with right now.

“I’m not going to pretend like that wasn’t part of it, but believe it or not, I’m not actually as big of a selfish asshole as the papers make me out to be.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, I can tell by the cashmere sweater vest and leather loafers that you’re wearing that you’re so down to earth.”

There was an awkward silence, and Harry decided to change the subject before he pissed you off even more. But what he chose to mention next was the one thing on the planet that you didn’t want to talk about.

“So, uh, I guess your friend Peter is with Gwen now,” he started, which had somehow managed to make you dislike him even more than you already did. Sure, there was no way for him to know how you felt about the whole situation, but it still pained you to think about how you had become an afterthought to who you thought was the guy who would always have your back.

You blinked back at him, frowning. “Yeah, I guess so,” you muttered. And then there was another awkward silence.

“Well, I’ll let you go now. It’s obvious I’m taking up some very precious time in your day,” he said, offering a weak smile. “Maybe we’ll see each other around campus.” 

It suddenly dawned on you that you might have been just a little too hard on him. He seemed nice enough, even if you weren’t a big fan of the company he kept. Before you could even really think about it, you called out, “Wait!” and walked over to meet him when he had turned around.

“I’m sorry,” you admitted, nervously toying with the hem of your sweater. “I’m just in a really bad mood.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured you, although he wasn’t quite as confident as when the two of you had started your conversation. “We all have bad days. I hope yours gets better.”

“It could, if you’d let me buy you a coffee,” you said, genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. Sure, it was nice to think that Peter would probably be upset once he heard that you had asked someone out and he knew nothing about it, but a small part of you was asking just because Harry Osborn seemed like the kind of guy you’d like to have around.

“Sure,” he answered back, running a hand through his hair, which seemed to be in a perpetually perfect messy-but-not-too-messy state. “Have you ever been to Hungry Ghost in Brooklyn?”

Your eyes lit up. “That’s actually my favorite café! They have this really awesome grand piano in the middle of the room, and every Friday they have an open mic where anybody can sign up to play it.”

Your enthusiasm honestly surprised you. It was nice to have something to talk about that didn’t somehow involve Peter.

“Actually, I’m signed up to play tomorrow night,” Harry told you, “Do you like jazz?”

It almost seemed too good to be true. You loved jazz. “Definitely,” you confirmed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Alright, cool. Let’s make a deal. I’ll let you buy me a coffee if you come watch me play tomorrow night.”

“Deal,” you agreed, before turning back towards your apartment, all giddy with excitement to tell MJ and Betty about what had just happened.

----------------

“You probably didn’t know this, but Y/N’s been hanging out with Harry Osborn,” Ned said, walking into the common room wearing his “special” Hawaiian shirt, which Peter knew meant he was going someplace fancy. “They’re kind of dating.”

Peter looked up immediately from his linear algebra homework. He had an uneasy feeling in his stomach about what Ned had just revealed, but he didn’t know why. He was with Gwen, and if you wanted to date Harry Osborn, then you could. But still, he found himself being just a little bit jealous that some other guy was filling in for him.

“Oh,” Peter said, looking back down at his homework. He couldn’t focus anymore, so he just shut the notebook and threw it from where he was sitting on the top bunk onto his desk. “How long has that been going on?”

“Two days now, but they’ve been spending every minute together since. Betty said that they bumped into each other on the street and she just asked him on a date out of nowhere,” he replied, tying his shoes to go meet his girlfriend for date night. “I just thought I’d let you know, in case you saw them when you were out and got mad at me for keeping it from you.”

“Thanks, dude,” Peter sighed, lying on his back, “You’re a good friend.”

“I know. Anytime, man. Now I gotta go. M’lady awaits,” he said. Peter didn’t even have to look to know that his roommate had just tipped his imaginary fedora.

Harry Osborn wasn’t even your type, Peter thought. You didn’t like guys as “pretty” as him, and you had always been more into brown eyes, not blue. So what was the appeal? His trust fund? Peter knew that you weren’t that shallow. It was just that, well, he couldn’t imagine you falling for someone like that.

You’re with Gwen, Peter kept reminding himself. So many guys would kill to be in your place. It wasn’t until he checked the time that he realized that he was actually about 20 minutes late to meeting her for the party. The stupid party at Flash Thompson’s tacky apartment that he didn’t even want to go to in the first place.

It was an understatement to say that Gwen was pissed when Peter knocked on her front door over half an hour late to the time they had agreed upon.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting,” she complained, smoothing out her sparkly silver dress that caught the light just right when she moved.

“I’m sorry,” Peter sighed, grabbing her hand as they walked down the street. “Uh, I guess I just lost track of time.”

“Whatever,” Gwen said, “Just don’t let it happen again.”

When they finally arrived at the party, the bowls of potato chips and mini pretzels were nearly empty. The floor was sticky, and Old Town Road boomed from the speakers in the living room. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Peter told Gwen, leaving her to greet all of her friends that had been waiting for her to show up. 

As Peter wandered towards the keg, he couldn’t stop thinking about you and Harry, and all the things that he didn’t know about your newfound relationship with some guy you had just met. He still didn’t know why he was so upset about it. He should be happy you had found someone you liked. In high school, all you ever talked about was finding the perfect guy, and if that was Harry Osborn, who was Peter to make a fuss about it?

But that didn’t stop Peter from filling up his plastic cup more times than he should’ve that night. It wasn’t until he was being dragged back to his dorm room by Gwen after puking on Flash’s couch that he realized what was wrong. He wanted to be that guy. The one who got to hold your hand and cuddle with you during scary movies. The one that got to love you and be loved by you.

----------------

Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn

P.S.: Sorry to all the people I forgot to tag on this one! I didn’t know that when you answer asks privately, they go away from your inbox. Please shoot me another ask or reply to this post so I don’t miss you again!

[illfoandillfie]

Okay first a smutty one 😏 smth where ben is like super bored and it’s a rainy day and reader keeps suggesting different things they could do like board games or baking etc but he shoots everything down until finally she’s like ok you come up with smth geez and then he just tackles her and they Do It

thank you for giving me excuses to be a whore about ben sdkjsdllkdjskjsd I just really enjoy writing smut with these two cause they're such dorks and just like making each other laugh which is cute and fun.

Anyway, I did not proof read this or anything because I finished writing it at 12.40 am (ahhhh help i need to be up for work in 5 and a half hours) so apologies for any mistakes.

Words: 2,566

Warnings: Smut (obviously), a lil hint of oral (f receiving), some fingering, a single slap on the arse.

Ben jerked aside the curtain hanging over the bedroom window, humming in discontent as he confirmed that it was still raining. “Stop checking the window Ben,” you sighed, only half paying attention to him over your novel, “You heard the weather report, it won’t let up for another day at least.” “Well you know weather presenters are wrong half the time,” You chose to ignore him, much more interested in the book.  Unfortunately for you, Ben still had some complaining to get out of his system.  “I’m so sick of this weather. You know we were meant to be playing cricket today,” “Mmhmm,” “I like rain as much as the next person but this is fucking ridiculous.” “Just invite some of the others over then,” you said, pulling your eyes from the page in the hopes that displaying your interest now would give you ample time to read later, “play video games or something,” “It’s not the same,” You could have laughed at Ben’s expression as his gave another wistful glance at the window. He’d always vaguely reminded you of a puppy, especially when he got excited about something, but the comparison was even more obvious now. He’d checked the window about six times over the course of the morning, each time looking crestfallen when no blue sky had materialised. The constant downpour seemed to be driving him bonkers. You, on the other hand, were coping quite well if you said so yourself. Aside from having to work on the first two days of the rain, you’d used the dreary weather as an excuse to stay in bed, wearing your comfies, drinking steaming mugs of tea and coffee, as you read and played games on your laptop. At first you’d hoped that Ben would be similarly inclined, and you’d pictured scenes of the two of you cozied up on the couch or cooking a hot, comforting meal together. Proper rainy day stuff. Alas, Ben wasn’t interested in sitting still, preferring to wander around the house, looking through curtains and complaining about what he saw through them. Hardly surprising really since he’d been indoors indulging in warm comfort those first days while you were working. When he didn’t get much sympathy from you, Ben left the bedroom again, (heading off to try a different window you assumed) and let you get back to your book.

You lost track of time, thoroughly enjoying yourself as you snuggled into your nest, sitting up straight when you got to a particularly intense section. Once the action calmed down you rearranged the pillows to give your back a little more support and settled into the story once more. Ben did cross your mind once or twice in slower chapters, but only because the absence of his frustrated sighing was notable. Eventually he reappeared in the room though, almost sulky in the way he slumped towards you, collapsing face down across the width of the bed.  “What’s up Blondie?” You kept your eyes fixed to the page.  “’m bored,” “So find something to do,” “There’s nothing to do here.” “You could read with me,” you shifted your hands on the book, holding it open as you moved one hand to tap the spot on the bed beside you. “Nah, don’t feel like reading.” Sensing that the conversation wouldn’t be a quick one you focused your attention on Ben, “If you let me finish this chapter then we could play a board game.” Ben pushed himself up but gave a non-committal shrug.” “Or watch a movie?” “Nah, I don’t want to just sit around,” “Well Rach gave me that recipe book for Christmas right? We could bake something? Or...” Feeling a little more frustrated you scanned the room for inspiration. Where once you’d only seen Ben’s trinkets and collected items, you now saw a mix of things that belonged to both of you. Your books were next to his on the shelf, the lucky cat you’d bought him was accompanied by a figurine of your zodiac symbol that he’d picked up on a whim, the desk was a mess of printed out guitar chords and notebooks that contained scribbles in both of your handwriting as well as a few stray lipsticks and earrings. But none of it really sparked any ideas to occupy Ben.  “You could give this room a tidy,” it wasn’t a serious suggestion but you made it anyway, knowing it would be shot down. “See, there’s nothing to do here!” “Well I don’t then Ben. You don’t like any of my suggestions, so come up with something yourself. Just please stop moping around, it’s giving me the shits.”

You dropped your eyes back to your book, waiting to feel the bed shift as Ben stood and the sound of him crossing the room to the door. Instead there was silence for a moment. And the next thing you knew was being knocked back, just barely managing to hold onto your book, so you were lying across the bed with Ben on top of you. “I found something I want to do,” he said, resting his chin on your chest and giving you his best pleading puppy eyes. “Oh alright,” you said, trying not to laugh, “But let me mark my page so I don’t lose my place.” Ben lifted his head as he reached over and plucked the, slightly crushed, book from between you, replacing your bookmark before dropping it to the floor. “There’s a bedside table right th-” before you could finish your sentence, Ben leaned down again and kissed you. It was a deep kiss, Ben’s tongue pressing towards your throat as he gently grinded his hips against yours. You were nearly breathless when he pulled away and yet it felt like it had barely started.  “Someone’s in a hurry,” you said, watching as Ben hurriedly began to undress you, peeling your leggings off before going for your shirt. “Well,” he said, pausing appreciatively as he realised you hadn’t bothered with a bra, “Now that I’m thinking about your pussy....”  You laughed as he snapped the band of your underpants to emphasis his point and then quickly rolled them down your legs too.  “Well, here she is,” you bit your lip playfully as you spread your legs, offering Ben a view to rival his imagination. Ben grinned, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth before he leaned towards your cunt, holding your gaze. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself as he stuck his tongue further out and licked along your slit, noting the way you shivered in delight. You hummed as he repeated the action, settling back against the mattress as Ben settled into a rhythm. But, just as you were really starting to enjoy it, the first sign of your arousal pooling between your legs, Ben stopped.

With a slight groan of disappointment you pushed yourself up to see if there was a partiuclar reason he’d stopped touching you. The sight of Ben, rolled onto his back, legs in the air as his discarded his own pants and underwear, greeted you. Apparently he’d already managed to get his shirt off in the time it took you to sit up. You couldn’t help but giggle as his feet flicked through the air, trying to kick his pants off.  “And what is so funny?” “Nothing, Tiger. Just enjoying the show.” “Oh yeah? You like that, huh? Well what about,” Ben’s feet fell back to the bed and he raised his hips into the air as his fingers caught the waistband of his briefs.  You cheered him on as he tugged them down to this thighs and then raised his legs again to pull them off entirely. His arse was completely on display for you and you couldn’t quite resist the sudden urge to lean over and swat his cheek. “You’re a freak,” he laughed, flipping himself over and crawling towards you. Both of you were still laughing as he kissed you again, the comforting weight of his body pinning your down. You could feel the length of his dick resting against your thigh so slid your hand down to stroke it, feeling yourself getting wetter as he hardened against your palm.  “Why don’t you touch yourself for me Kitten,” Ben cooed, reaching down to wrap his fingers around your wrist, “Promise I don’t need any help getting ready for you.”  Your breath caught at the petname, a recent addition to your sexual dynamic but a fun one, and you did as Ben suggested, letting his guide your hand away from his cock. You were wet but not quite enough to take him comfortably. Ben kissed you again as your dragged your fingers through your folds, but it didn’t last long. He wanted to watch, sitting back on his knees to get a proper look at your fingers circling your clit.  “That’s right, keep going like that. I want to see you leaking over the sheets.” You were beginning to feel the familiar want growing in the pit of your stomach. That empty feeling that only Ben could properly fix. You groaned and let your fingers trail down towards your entrance. But before you could sink any of them into the wet heat of your cunt, you felt your walls softly stretch around one of Ben’s.  “Is that what you needed Kitten?” “Yeah, thanks,” you managed to get out between shaky breaths, resuming the previous attention on your clit. “Any time,” Ben chuckled, slowly pulling his finger out of you, circling your hole, and sliding it back in a little deeper. You keened as Ben began to finger you, getting the one finger as deep as he could before he added a second.  Your orgasm grew steadily closer as you adjusted to the width of his fingers and Ben’s touch became less delicate, your own speeding up with his. And then his touch disappeared.

For the second time you looked up, pushing yourself to rest on one elbow, wondering where he’d gone and why he was teasing you. You kept working your fingers over your clit but it wasn’t quite the same and you couldn’t help but whine as you felt the loss acutely.  Ben didn’t bother to reply. Words would just waste time. Instead he grasped one of your shins, adjusting your leg so it was closer to your body but spread further, as he shuffled forward on his knees. His dick was harder than when you’d felt it before and he wrapped his fist around the stiff length to guide it towards your waiting pussy.  You’d thought his fingers had felt good but it was nothing to the way he filled you then, pulling a moan from you faster than you’d have believed possible. Ben leaned forward on his knees as he sank into you, pulling out slowly after a moment and then pushing forward again, letting you get used to feeling.  “C’mon Benny, fuck me,” you whined, the fingers on your clit faltering as he gave you a sharp thrust, “Yeah, like that.”  Ben nodded, looking as if just swallowing was a challenge, let alone getting out words. He dropped his hands to your stomach, slowly sliding them up until he was cupping your breasts, his thumb and forefinger circling around the underside of them so he could feel them bounce with each jolt of his hips.  You tried to keep rubbing your clit but keeping yourself upright was a struggle so you shifted your hand away, better able to prop yourself up on two elbows than just the one.  Ben didn’t seem to mind, focusing his energy on fucking you hard and deep. It seemed that, now he was inside you, his eagerness had been tempered and he had no qualms with drawing the moment out.  “Jesus Y/N,” he grunted as you clenched without warning, his hips stuttering out of time as you kept him from drawing back as far as he had been.  You just whined in response.  “Fuck this is hot. Watching how you take me. How perfect your cunt looks stretched open on my cock. I’m going to fuck you until your cunt is red and sore from how well I’ve used it. And I’m going to watch the whole time.” You whined again, louder and more urgently, as his words went straight to your core, making you clench again.  “Does that mean you want to cum?” Ben teased, knowing full well how close you were getting.  It was harder to see the funny side of his comments when your whole body felt tense with an impending orgasm. The torturous stopping and starting he’d put you through had only heightened your need and the lack of clitoral stimulation made you desperate for more. Ben had managed to get you off with just penetration once or twice but it was never as good as the combination of his dick moving inside you and your clit being played with. And he knew that’s how you liked to get off best.

Ben gave your breast a quick squeeze before he shifted his hand, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing it. You clenched at the sudden added stimulation and moaned, loudly, your orgasm rocketing towards you as you balled the sheets up in your fists. Your arms felt unstable as Ben speared into you harder, trying to push you over the edge, perfectly filling you.  “Oh, oh, oh!” you choked out, right on the precipice of release.  Ben grit his teeth as his hips slammed towards yours a few times, his balls slapping against you with the motion.  It was enough. A final push to get you over the edge, the cry of ecstasy catching in your throat along with your breath. Ben swore and groaned as your pussy tightened with your release, making an effort to keep fucking you, though it wasn’t easy to maintain an even pace.  You managed to choke out his name as your arms gave out and you collapsed on your back, panting.  Ben pulled out but you barely noticed, so overtaken by the warm pleasure of your orgasm. It wasn’t until he grunted and you felt the first drops of his cum hitting your stomach that you realised he’d wanked himself off over you. You lay still as spurt after spurt hit you, watching as well as you could as his fist continued to pump over his length, milking every last drop from his cock.  Finally he sat back, sounding a little breathless.  Slowly you pushed yourself to sit up, “Well?” “Well what?” “Did you get it out of your system? Can you just sit and read or whatever for a while now?” Ben shrugged, “It helped. Might get bored again pretty soon though,” You laughed, “Well don’t expect a repeat any time soon. I’m quite content to finish my book.” “Aww c’mon,” Ben was struggling not to smile too much, “Don’t pretend you weren’t extremely turned on by the idea of fucking you until you’re sore.” You ignored him, turning towards the beside draws so you could find something to clean up with. “You could keep reading if you wanted. Wouldn’t have to do anything except lie there, I promise. And I’d just fuck you and fuck you and fuck you until I wasn’t bored anymore.” You gave a thoughtful hum, “Just lie there you say?”

[aquilaofarkham]

title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛  Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit. 

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.” 

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

--

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time. 

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle. 

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips. 

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation. 

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water. 

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

--

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade. 

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

[mxndoscyarika]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice (Sam Wilson x fem!Reader) | Chapter 2: Apple Pie

Summary: Being best friends with Sarah Wilson was simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing you’ve ever experienced. You felt at home with the Wilsons, and helped raise Sarah’s children after her divorce and the Snap. But harboring feelings for her brother, Sam, and not being able to do anything about it hurt more than it should. When he comes back home between leads on Karli Morgenthau, with Bucky in tow, you can’t help but feel a spark of hope.

Ao3

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice masterlist

Author’s note: It’s been a bit of a wait, but it’s here! I love writing the reader and Sam’s dynamic, and how they fit together so well. Just one more chapter to go after this one, and their story will be complete 🥺 Enjoy!

Warnings: food, mutual pining, smut (semi-public, unprotected) - 18+ ONLY

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Sunlight streamed through the windows, golden beams striping across the counter where you and Sam stood, preparing apples for a pie. You had wanted to try out a new pie crust recipe, and had picked up more apples than you’d intended at the farmer’s market. It was funny how life worked out like that sometimes, like the universe was telling you to do what you love.

Sam’s arm brushed against yours as he placed a peeled apple onto your cutting board, the touch sending electricity up your arm. You weren’t sure why he was standing so close when there was plenty of space, but you didn’t want to complain. After all, this was the closest you’d ever get to being with him. Even if it had to end, you couldn’t help but imagine an alternate timeline where you and he were baking together because you loved each other.

“Those apples are gonna cook if you keep staring that hard,” Sam teased, bringing you out of your reverie. “What are you thinking about?”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your face. “Nothing important.”

“It didn’t seem like it was nothing important,” he said softly, glancing at you. His breath caught as the light graced your face just right, highlighting your features with gold. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

You nodded, adding the sliced apples to a bowl. There was something you wished you could tell him, but it wasn’t just anything. It could ruin everything. “I know.”

With Sam and Bucky around, it was getting harder to hide your feelings. You knew that, Sarah knew that, and maybe even Bucky knew. Bucky was sweet, a gentleman at his core. He knew how to flirt around, but you weren’t quite enamored enough to fall for him. The man beside you was your perfect match, or so you hoped.

The sound of footsteps approached from behind.

“Whatcha making there, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, leaning into the small space between you and Sam. His broad frame nudged Sam out of the way, making the other man frown. “Anything I can help with?”

“No,” Sam said bluntly.

“We’re just making an apple pie for later tonight,” you answered, giving him a small smile. But as much as you liked the warm feeling of being close to another person, you already missed Sam. “And no, Sam and I should be able to get everything done ourselves. It’s just a couple more steps and then we’ll bake it.”

Bucky hummed in understanding, walking around to your other side, which allowed Sam to begrudgingly settle back next to you. “Are you sure? I’m pretty good with my hands…”

You let out a huff of laughter, shaking your head. “I’m sure you are, but we have everything under control here. Besides, you’re a guest.”

At last, Bucky relented and backed away, watching Sam amusedly. “Don’t have too much fun without me, kids.”

When Sam sighed in relief,  you looked over. “You alright, Sam?”

He chuckled softly, bracing his arms on the counter. “Yeah, I just find it funny how the abominable snowman comes to Louisiana and woos all the women in my life. I should’ve known that was gonna happen.”

Although he had a fond smile on his face, the spark was missing from his voice. He sounded almost sad.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re still my favorite.”

Sam froze, dumbfounded. But then, beaming, he turned and pulled you into a tight hug. His strong arms wrapped around you and held you close as he swayed back and forth, laughing softly with you. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms tightly around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest. “I better be your favorite,” he teased. You thought you felt a gentle pressure against your temple, but you were too caught up in his scent of seawater and oranges to care. “I knew you first.”

---

“Sam?” you called, stepping onto the boat. In your hands was a tupperware with a slice of pie, the ice cream half melted and pooling at the bottom. After helping out, he’d gone to the docks to keep working on the family boat; he’d mentioned something about the engine needing to be fixed. So, you figured that you’d surprise him with his favorite dessert.

“Over here!” he replied, coming back up to meet you. The sleeves of his shirt were pushed up to his elbows, drawing your eyes to his muscular forearms and strong hands. “What do you have there?”

It took you a moment to realize that he asked you a question, making heat rush to your face. “Dessert. Well, a snack for you. You’ve been working all evening, so I wanted to make sure you had something to eat.”

You settled in the cockpit of the boat, basking in the familiar room.

“Okay, miss fairy god-baker,” he said, sitting down next to you. “Why don’t you take the first bite? You deserve it, of all people.”

Knowing he wouldn’t relent until you took a bite, you scooped up some of the crust, soft apples, and ice cream and slipped the fork into your mouth. The pie was still slightly warm, the apples spiced with cinnamon and a hint of molasses from the brown sugar and the ice cream cool and light on your tongue. The crust was just right, not too crumbly and not too sweet. You hummed in satisfaction, smiling sheepishly as you realized you’d just made a sound.

“How is it, baby?”

“It’s sweet,” you answered, assembling a bite for him. “Do you want to try some?”

You didn’t pay much attention to his low hum of affirmation until you glanced at him and saw he was watching you with a small smile.

The next few seconds were a blur as he leaned in and kissed you, lips melding against yours.

He tasted sweet, and you couldn’t help but set down the container so you could scoot closer. A shiver ran down your spine as his arms wrapped around your waist and held you. The warmth from his body surrounded you, bringing with it a peacefulness that you never knew you missed. It felt...right. Like your missing puzzle piece had finally clicked into place. Like you had found your home.

When you finally parted for air, Sam let out a chuckle. “You’re right. You’re very sweet.”

“I-I don’t understand-”

“It’s you,” he murmured, cupping your cheeks and kissing you sweetly. “It’s always been you. I’m tired of waiting and doubting myself. Doubting us.”

“I’ve wanted this for a very long time, Sam,” you began, your words soft between the kisses. “I’ve wanted you for a very long time.”

You often wondered what your life would’ve been like if you’d faced your feelings earlier. Would you be married? Would you and Sam have had a family? So much time had passed, it wasn’t hard to imagine the different ways your life could’ve gone.

A wave of anxiety washed over you. What if he didn’t really want you? What if you were just a distraction from his work? Part of you screamed to control yourself and consider the consequences, but another part of you told you to give it a chance. After all, it was Sam; he cared deeply and saw the best in everything. Maybe you could do the same, for once.

You had waited long enough. He had waited long enough.

“I want you too, honey,” he said, hands slipping down to guide your hips towards him. “Come up, baby.”

Your face burned as you realized what he wanted, but you couldn’t help shuffling closer. There was no doubt that he was strong; years of physical training had done him well. But nonetheless, you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “I-I don’t want to squish you-”

“You won’t, baby,” he replied, groaning as you kissed him deeply. “I want you on top of me. Let me hold you...please.”

Unable to resist, you climbed onto his lap. Your arms went around his neck so you wouldn’t slide off; not that you were going to. Sam’s hands rested respectfully on your waist, pressing gently to keep you close. You never quite realized how big they were until then; those were the same hands that tickled you back in high school, held yours during dances, and saved the world.

His lips were as soft as you imagined, the years of holding out and waiting poured into each movement. Your hips involuntarily started shifting against him, making him groan softly. A soft laugh escaped your lips as he encouraged your movements. It wasn’t long until you felt him pressed against your core. Though, you’d have been lying if you said you weren’t affected yourself. Every movement stoked the flame in your lower belly, reminding you of just how long you’d been dreaming for this moment.

“I need you,” you gasped, shuddering as his lips trailed down your neck. “Sam…”

“I know, baby,” he soothed, his fingers tracing the top of your pants. “I need you, too. Do you want this? I need to hear you say it, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you answered, tugging at his hands so he would take them off faster. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you.”

“I want you, too,” he said, his voice like velvet. “I’ve dreamt of you for so long.”

You were glad there was no one around as you stepped out of your pants and pulled off your shirt and bra. The change in temperature made you shiver, along with the sight of Sam undressing himself.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mused, watching with hooded eyes as you straddled his hips. Your hips fit against his perfectly, nestled against him. Without the barrier of clothing, you could feel everything, from his soft skin to his rippling muscles. The only way that it could’ve been better was if he was inside of you.

You reached down and stroked his length slowly, rubbing your thumb across the tip. A soft laugh left your lips as he gasped your name and bucked his hips into your hand, clear fluid beading at the tip. If you weren’t on a boat, you would’ve taken more time to taste him. But that could be saved for later, when you and Sam were home.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, leaning in for a kiss. Once you felt his lips against yours, you knew you were done for. No one could take you away from him. “Are you ready?”

“I think a better question is, are you ready?” he mused, slipping his hand down to rub slow circles on your bundle of nerves. A smirk appeared on his face as he found you slick and pliant, the tips of his fingers shining with your arousal. “Next time, I’m gonna make it up to you. We have years to make up for, babe.”

A gasp left your lips as the head of his cock slipped into you; it was thicker than you’d expected. You could tell he was going to fill you perfectly, grinding against all the areas that made you moan.

The touch of his thumb against your clit made sliding down on him easier, each flutter of your walls letting him go deeper. By the time he was seated fully inside you, you were a mess. Your breaths were shallow and your hands roamed his chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as you started moving, lifting your hips before sinking back down.

Sam couldn’t seem to get enough of you, his hands roaming your body and squeezing and caressing until you felt like you were going to combust.

“Sam, please,” you moaned, bouncing on his cock. Every time you sank down, he ground against that sensitive area inside you. You dripped down his length as you slowly lost control, your arousal collecting at the base until it looked like he was leaking out of you.

You moved against each other with an indulgent drag, as if everything was going to turn to dust again. The life you shared was a gift, one that you no longer wanted to waste. You wanted to spend the rest of your years with him, wanted to have his children. Just the thought of him filling you made you clench so tightly that you had to stop, hovering on the precipice of ecstasy.

As you sank back down, you were pushed over the edge.

Sam’s name left your lips as you came, swirling your hips for more friction. Beneath you, Sam reached his peak as well, pulling you down so he stayed buried deep inside. Hot ropes of his seed painted your walls, filling you with a warmth that you’d never felt before.

He kissed your neck as you both shuddered in each other’s arms.

Eventually the sharp burn of pleasure settled into a soothing glow, as if everything was right in the world. You stayed on top of him for a few minutes, savoring his warmth and the fullness inside you. Soft murmurs of his name left your lips as Sam kissed down your neck and mouthed at your tits. “Sam, baby…”

“You’re so amazing,” he said, voice soft. Trailing kisses back up until he reached your lips, he murmured, “I love you so much.”

Those three words made your heart skip a beat. You never thought you’d get to hear those words, much less say them in return. They were always a late night fantasy, a makeshift reality that you could fall asleep to.

You no longer needed to fantasize.

Tears pricked at your eyes. “I love you, too. I have for a very long time.” You kissed your boyfriend deeply, committing his touch to memory. “Let’s go home.”

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[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [Finale]

Chapter 22 - Chapter 23 [Finale]

➜ Words: 5.1k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Baking is an art form. It takes more than just having ingredients and following a recipe. It’s the flavour, texture, taste, and the presentation. It’s knowing why when things go wrong and how to fix it. It’s knowing the right kinds of ingredients to pick, how much of each should be combined, what techniques and methods to use. Baking is therapy. Baking is scientific. It is art.   The ingredients are as follows: 

Fresh strawberries

White chocolate sponge cake

Sugar

Butter

Eggs

You place the fresh strawberries into the refrigerator as the stand mixer whips the six large egg whites and two cups of sugar. When it's combined, you place a bowl over a double boiler on the stove and whisk until the mixture is hot. You put it on your stand mixer again until the white chocolate swiss meringue buttercream is stiff. The cubed butter and white chocolate is added shortly after until it's smooth.   Once you’ve got your components prepared, you slice the cooled white chocolate cake into two layers and set the bottom layer on a cake board on the turning cake table. You spread the meringue buttercream evenly with an offset spatula and layer the strawberries.    Afterwards, you put the other chocolate sponge cakes over it and repeat the process.   You finish the white chocolate strawberry swirl cake with white chocolate strawberries on top for decorative purposes and pipe flowers with a twelve inch piping bag.   “It looks fucking incredible.”   Jungkook leans over the counter, peering at the frosted cake you’ve just made.   “It was supposed to be white chocolate raspberry swirl, but I know you like strawberries, so….”   The boy grins, a wide smile that makes his big nose scrunch. “I love it.”   You burst out into giggles. “You haven’t even taken a bite yet!”   Jungkook begins slicing the cake. You’re proud of what you’ve made — but it’s kind of sad at the same time. This is the final product of your portfolio before it's ready for submission. You’re glad it’s over, but it also means your journey here is ending.   It’s November now. And it’s been one whole year since your relationship with Jungkook shifted.    A year ago — when the internship posting went up and you found out he was going to be your partner over the summer. When you were made his exam partner in your fine pastries class. When that Friday night happened and you bursted out crying in the kitchen, and he comforted you to no avail despite it being a cold night where the air bit his skin and turned his cheeks rosy. Where he bought you grape soda for no reason whatsoever other than a poor attempt at trying to make things better.   It seems like it was so long ago, but it’s only been three hundred and sixty days.   It makes you wonder what will happen a year from now or two or ten.   “Not too sweet?”   You watch your boyfriend’s expression carefully. Jeon Jungkook has his brows deeply furrowed with a thoughtful expression like he’s trying to give honest output. His fork is cleaned empty and it lowers to grab another bite.    “It’s perfect.” He melts into a smile. “Maybe you made my sugar tolerance go up.”   “Maybe because I improved.” You loll your head to the side, challenging him. “It’s almost as good as your chocolate-covered strawberry cupcakes, huh?”   Jungkook scoffs lightly. “I wouldn’t go that far, babe, but we can all dream.”   You sulk. “I’ll find out that recipe one day, Jeon. You mark my words and when I do, I’ll profit off of it.”   He laughs, the sound tickling and boyish, causing another smile to rise onto your features. Jungkook digs in, having yet another bite and he lets his teeth rot with the sweetness.    It’s not long before he remembers something, strides away with a hum and returns with a cold tray. “What is it?” you ask curiously as he sets it down and removes the saran wrap.   “It’s truffles. I made it in my art of chocolate class, but it’s an original recipe. Give it a try.”   He pushes the tray towards you and you don’t hesitate to grab a chocolate truffle. You would never, on any planet, deny the opportunity of consuming chocolate, especially when it’s made by Jeon Jungkook. You’ve never said it out loud before, but for some reason he always makes the best.   No grocery brand or chocolatier can beat what he often bakes for you.   So you try not to devour the truffle all in one bite, opting to relish and savour it. You take half of the truffle into your mouth and chew with the same consideration he had for you. And you’re surprised as the deep flavour melts on your palate. “Coffee?”    Your brows furrow and you lick your lips. “Did you put black coffee into it?”   “I was inspired by a memory,” Jungkook says with a soft smile. “What do you think?”   “I love it,” you exhale in awe, finishing the bite and licking your fingers.    It tastes kind of bitter, but it has a sweet note at the end.    It’s bittersweet. But mostly ends up sweet.

Life with Jungkook continues. Lectures and workshops become more hectic the closer the end comes, but in between classes and late nights spent in the kitchens next to ovens, you and Jungkook still find plenty of time with one another. Or at least enough that you still have your dumb debates and have your hour of snuggling — which Jungkook regularly falls asleep during.   The honeymoon phase of your relationship eventually fades away, but luckily it molds into a comfortable pattern that neither of you mind whatsoever. There are still knowing gazes shared across busy rooms, his hand that often comes on your lower back that you find security in, tender kisses shared when the two of you greet each other and bid temporary farewells.    You still love Jungkook very much and you don’t ever find yourself afraid of him leaving you abruptly.    Your relationship becomes normal too, so Yoongi and Taehyung has little to tease you both about. They instead relish in bullying Jimin when he ends up going out with a coworker of his at his new part-time job, much to the shorter man’s dismay.   Hoseok, on the other hand, while no longer in a relationship, finds an interest in teaching and starts to look into what it would take to become an instructor. You’re happy for him and so is Aeri who tells you she’s considering going abroad someday to expand her culinary skills and cook more international cuisine. She keeps herself preoccupied by improving herself and becomes someone worthy of your admiration.   But for the most part, things remain consistent and constant. There’s still bickering over lunchtimes and dinner times across the cafeteria table. Still nights of crashing Yoongi and Hoseok’s apartment and playing games. The five of you also start playing Dungeons and Dragons much to Taehyung’s delight who becomes the dungeon master — and while Yoongi always says he wants to stab himself halfway through every session, you’re sure he enjoys it as much as everyone else does.   The memories made are ones you cherish the most.   And before you know it, graduation has come.   “You look beautiful, dear,” Jungkook’s mom holds back tears as she grasps your hands tightly. “Congratulations.”   “Thank you.”   “Come on, you two!” His dad suddenly calls, holding an old camera up to his chin. “Let’s take some photos to remember the occasion!”   One hand holds your rolled certificate and the other holds your navy gown, you stand in front of the school sign with Jungkook who adjusts his black cap. He drapes his arm over your shoulder and the both of you tilt your heads towards each other and give the biggest grins.   The camera flashes. Again and again.   The corner of your mouth starts moving as your smile twitches. “How many is he taking?”   “Just smile,” Jungkook mutters through his grin as both his parents, his aunt and uncle, Lia and Eunbi, and grandma look on proudly. “He’ll do more if you try to argue.”   “Two more!” His dad shouts, despite taking another five.   His entire family seems so elated that your heart swells with endearment.   “I didn’t know your family would be so happy when you told them we were dating,” you murmur, switching your poses a bit. “You know, your grandma just asked me when we’re getting married.”   “Really?” He glances at you and then scoffs with another smile that’s more genuine. “Be lucky she has half a mind not to start asking when we’re having kids. Unless…...”   “I swear to god, Jungkook, if you get down on your knee in the middle of our graduation with everyone watching, I’m going to kick you in your shin.”   He giggles, nose scrunched, eyes crinkled.    It’s not long before Jungkook’s mother drags over Jimin overbearingly by the hand with Taehyung, Hoseok, and Yoongi for a group photo. There’re so many parents, family members, and phones and cameras being passed around that your plastered smile starts to break on your face. Everyone’s mother and their goddamn cousin’s cousin wants three copies of the same exact picture.   “Oh my god, kill me now,” Yoongi groans but still has that dumb fucking grin on his face. He looks more like a kid showing off his braces or a grandpa who has his dentures stuck.   You think he’s putting on that idiotic grin just to ruin the pictures — even his mom is yelling about it on the sidelines.   “Just a few more,” Jimin whispers with more perseverance than anyone else has.   “Who is even taking our picture, right now?” Hoseok asks, his brows furrowing. “Does anyone even know who that lady is?”   “I think she’s the associate dean’s assistant who’s going to put it on the website.” Taehyung breathes out, his cheeks aching from his smile. “Either that or that’s my cousin’s brother-in-law’s younger sister’s friend.”   “Alright, that’s enough.” Yoongi gives up and walks out of the frame. Everyone starts dispersing before there are protests and they’re rounded up for another pointless photo session.    But after a while, you’re granted some freedom to roam around with Jungkook. There’s still a few more photos taken, ones with Aeri and classmates and teachers, like Miss. Kang, who you always liked.    “I always knew the two of you could be close.” The female teacher has the cheesiest smile and you have to admit, you’re glad she never changed Jungkook’s internship like he wanted. In a way she’s like your matchmaker, but you’ll never say it out loud in case you give her more credit than it’s due. She already seems to know it anyway. “Good luck on your future journeys. You both have great potential.”   Namjoon and Sejeong also show up to congratulate the pair of you as well. And they meet Jungkook’s family who seems to adore the couple straight away, asking plenty of questions of what their shop is like and if their son was in any way helpful.   But while you’d like to stick around to hear all the conversations, it’s nice to take a break from the bustle to just walk on the paths that you used to take all the time with Jungkook.   You don’t know what it’s going to be like when you leave this place.   “Aren’t you kind of sad?” Your hand squeezes Jungkook’s and you turn to look at him.   “Yeah,” he admits. “But I’m also happy we don’t have to submit projects or do exams anymore. I’ll miss the routine. Of being able to hang out with the guys and eat with them all the time. But they’ll still be around and I have you.”   Jungkook’s gaze meets yours. His eyes are tender, soft.   You smile at him. That’s right — this chapter might be ending, but you’ll still have many more with him.   “Y/N!” There’s a call of your name and you turn to see your family waving at a distance. Your mom holds a flower bouquet, most likely for you and your cheeks swell with a smile.   Your arm extended in the air to wave back and your steps quicken with Jungkook’s to meet them.

A lot happens after graduation.   There are many changes and alterations. While you’ll still always be learning until the end of time, you’re no longer an official student and you’re thrown to the hounds called the real world.   But it’s not all that bad.   You get hired back at Kim’s Wedding Cake Company and work with Soohyun who’s returned from maternity leave. Yuna also sometimes joins during the weekends and much to your delight, she tells you that she’s enrolled in the institution as she had wanted. You can only imagine what kind of knowledge she’ll gain and stories she’ll end up having there like you did. But there’s not a lot of time to reminisce when there’s work and a ton to learn, but you find yourself enjoying it more than finding it difficult.   Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t return to the company. He instead gets hired at a chocolatier shop not far from where you work. It’s only a ten minute walk down the block; five for each of you when you meet halfway like you frequently do for lunch.   He tells you that he’s learning a lot, on what it takes in the artistry of chocolate, that there’s more meticulousness than what meets the eye. It sounds like an absolute nightmare to you, but he loves it — especially on the days when he smells sweet and there’s some chocolate smeared on his cheeks. And you don’t hate that he often brings you home truffles and caramels to try.   The two of you also move in with each other, sharing an old apartment not far from your workplaces. It’s not much different from how you used to live on campus at different dorms, except now there are bills to be paid and Jungkook steals all the hot water in the shower.   You wonder if this is what it feels like to be an adult.   “Y/N?”   There’s a familiar voice, but one you haven’t heard in ages. A smooth timbre that sounds light and humorous at the corners. You whirl around, regarding the tall man with dark hair, dressed in a dark turtleneck and a black trench coat. His sheepish eyes crinkle in his smile, lips pink and plush.   “Jin?” A grin spreads into your face as well. “Oh my god! How are you? It’s been so long! What are you doing here?”   “I live here, remember,” he reminds in the midst of squeaky giggles. “And I’m good. I’m actually on my way to a meeting. I’m working in management of Toute Pastries and Pâtisseries.”   “Wow, working in commercial bakeries? That’s impressive.”    But you’re not exactly surprised. You knew Seokjin always had it in him and you feel proud that someone you used to know has become so great.   Seokjin laughs. “Not really. It’s kind of less hands-off than I’d like, but what about you?”   “I’m good too. Just heading to my friend’s bakery.” You hitch a thumb over your shoulder. “Today’s the opening. Do you want to come?”   “I’d love to, but the meeting starts in twenty. I saw the sign the other day though. The bakery is that place that was being renovated on Imlingss Avenue, right?”   “Yeah. It’s next to the department store.”   “I’ll swing by when I have some time then.”   “When you have some time?” You eye him playfully and cross your arms. It might be inappropriate to be so sarcastic with an acquaintance, but being with Jungkook has made you more snarky than is probably socially acceptable. “So you’re a hot shot, now, aren’t you?”   Luckily, Jin doesn’t take offence and simply laughs. “I swear I’m not!”   It’s good to see him. You thought you never would again, at least not face-to-face like this. But what you least expected was that your conversations could be so light and natural. It isn’t difficult at all and you don’t find yourself uncomfortable nor holding any resentments. You aren’t sad or angry.   It’s like seeing an old friend again.   “I heard you were with Jungkook,” Jin says with the corner of his mouth quirked. “That’s a surprise.”   “Isn’t it?” Whenever Jungkook used to come up in a conversation, all you ever said to Seokjin was how trash he was. But that was before you really knew anything about him. “But he’s great. An idiot sometimes. But it’s great.”   Jin can see the happiness radiating off your face and it’s infectious. “I’m happy for you, Y/N.”   He says it sincerely, genuinely, and your smile widens. “Thanks.”   The both of you share a little more small talk before you’re on your way. And once farewells are said and done, you don’t look back or peek over your shoulder for another glance at him.    You’re content continuing straight forward.   “Sorry, I’m late.” The door chimes as it slowly shuts after you, the warm furnace heating the air and melting off the coldness of your skin.    “Of course you’d be late.” Yoongi is in his black apron, white shirt rolled up to his elbows and his arms crossed. “We already took the photos, don’t expect that we’ll re-take them.”   “A joy as always, Yoongi.” You smile at him, taking off your jacket and putting it on the coat rack at the corner. Jimin comes to greet you and you sigh softly. “Why’d you ever agree to open a bakery with him, Chim? You must be a saint to deal with his shit all the time.”   “I heard that.”   Jimin laughs. “Trust me, he kept on asking Jungkook when you would come. He’s all bark but no bite,” he whispers but it’s loud enough that Yoongi looks sorely unimpressed.   The shop is cute and spacious. It’s rather modern with square tables and chairs lining the walls. The lights come from the sides of the fancy ceiling, and there’s a counter to check out at with a main glass case where people can choose pastries from. In the corner, there’s also several smaller pastry display cases where patrons can grab trays, tongs and fill up their own plates.    You quickly greet everybody and then move to grab your one prized possession.    “Lemon meringue pie?” Taehyung laughs, watching you put two on your plate.   “You know I just have to.” You smile and sit at one of the tables, luckily having it on the house. Taehyung sits across from you. “Man, you’re so nice to let Yoongi have the entire recipe since it’s yours too.”   He shrugs. “It wasn’t like I had any plans with it in the first place, plus it was Yoongi’s idea to add the secret ingredient.”   “Which is?”   Taehyung grins his infamous boxy smile. “Nice try.”   “I’ll find out one of these days,” you warn. Taehyung handed you the recipe a long time ago but he conveniently omitted the secret ingredient and you haven’t forgiven him since. “And then I’ll be making it for myself every other night instead of giving my pretty penny over to Yoongi and Jimin.”   “Yeah, good luck with that.” He leans back in the comfortable chair. “I’m sure Yoongi will be protecting that from you for the rest of his life. He might be willing to exchange information though if he can get his hands on Jungkook’s chocolate-covered strawberries.”   Taehyung wiggles his brows, but you shake your head with a sigh. “He won’t tell me. I swear he’s holding it above my head so I can never ditch him.”   The man laughs and takes a look around the new shop.   Everyone is here — Hoseok, Jimin, Yoongi, Jungkook, Taehyung, Aeri and you — the entire crew with no one else missing. There are other people as well, sponsors and Yoongi and Jimin’s other acquaintances, but you muse how hard it is these days to gather up like you used to.   Everybody was busy and on their own paths. Doing their own thing. But it’s what made moments like these more precious.   “I would’ve joined them, should’ve,” Taehyung says wistfully with a sigh. “The original plan was actually Jimin, Yoongi, and I.”   “Yeah, but you wouldn’t have been happy.” You take another bite of the pie, chewing in your cheek.   “Yeah, that’s true.”   “Do you regret it? Going back to school?”   “No.” Taehyung smiles gently. “I love learning and I knew after graduation, I wanted to keep learning. I’m not as good at cooking as I am at baking, but it’s still fun and I think I’m getting better. The only issue is Yuna.” The man visibly and dramatically shivers and it elicits laughter from you.   “Does she bother you a lot?”   “Less like bothering and more like she literally pops up wherever I go,” he tells. “Sometimes I’m just minding my own business and then boom, out of nowhere, I turn the corner and she’s there. I’m starting to think she’s like a ghost or like….like…”   “—a witch,” Jungkook finishes and then leans down to plop a kiss at the top of your head. “Hey.”   “Hey.” You smile and he leans down to steal a bite of your pie, but you don’t mind much. “You’ll never guess who I saw earlier.” Curiosity gleams in Jungkook’s eye and you grin, wanting to put him suspense for a little longer. “I’ll tell you about it later, but is everyone grabbing dinner afterwards? I haven’t checked the messages yet.”   “Yeah, we are.”   Soon, Hoseok comes over and introduces his lady-friend that he brought with him as Naul. But you know through advice he’s sought through you a few weeks back that he’s been seeing her and taking it slow.    It’s nice to finally meet someone you’ve heard about, and you find that her calm and collected personality fits into Hoseok’s quite well.   You also meet Jimin’s girlfriend who is sweet and an avid talker about all things deli meats.    At your surprise of how ham supposedly doesn’t taste as good as some other cold cuts, she insists that you and Jungkook need to have a double date with her and Jimin so she can enlighten you on the world of salamis — to which you agree needs to happen. She’s peculiar, but sweet and cute when she’s with Jimin.   “So you’re really going?” you ask after Aeri confirms it. She had told you a month ago that she applied to study abroad and you couldn’t be anything but happy. Especially now that she’s just told you that she’s been accepted, you have nothing but eagerness for her.   “Yeah, I’m a bit nervous, but I’m super excited.”   You pull the girl into a tight embrace. “I’ll miss you, but have fun and stay safe. Stay in touch.”   “Thanks and I will, Y/N.” She giggles against you and pulls apart. “I hear Amsterdam is really nice and my aunt keeps advertising it, so I’m looking forward to it.”   “Apparently, those Dutch men are really something,” you murmur and she laughs. “You know, if I wasn’t in a happily committed relationship and with my dream job, I’d probably ask if I could come with you cause damn, they’re like a tall glass of water. You need to take advantage of that.”   “Who’s a tall glass of water?” Jungkook approaches with a sorely unimpressed expression.   It makes you go tight-lipped and Aeri giggles, slinking away before she’s caught in the crossfire.   While you and Jungkook playfully bicker in the middle of the store and he grabs you in a chokehold and you tickle him — much to the shock of the other patrons who don’t know you — Yoongi looks on behind the counter with a displeased expression.   Except that’s only his natural resting bitch face and not what he thinks internally.   Or at least that’s what Jimin realizes when Yoongi says to him privately— “They’re a pretty good match, huh? Jungkook and Y/N.”   “Yeah.” Jimin smiles, watching the two of you act like children. “They are.”   It’s sad when the opening event eventually ends. The night comes and dinner is soon over too. Everyone ultimately says their farewells, waving before they go off on their own way and you linger just a moment until everyone’s gone. It’s nostalgic to be around them, reminding you of days that seemed simpler and easier, and when you were unaware of these facts.   It’s sad to say goodbye since you don’t know when you’ll see all of them again. At one place. At one time. But at least you have Jungkook with you, so you’re far from being alone.   “Don’t worry,” Jungkook jokes around, “They’ll be back for our wedding.”   “When is that going to happen?” you scoff, looking at him and how his features are illuminated under the lampposts that you pass. You squeeze his hand in yours.    “It’s a surprise,” he answers slyly.   You grin. “And what if I reject you?”   “Then I’ll be a very sad man.”   “And if we don’t work out at all?”   “Then we’ll still be best friends,” Jungkook says and interlaces his fingers with yours. “I’ll always be here for you. Because I’m lame and I think I’ll always be head over heels for you.” He smiles wide, bunny teeth revealed and features soft. “It’s a promise.”   And one you believe in.   Luckily, you and Jungkook never split.   You end up getting married two years later with Aeri as your maid of honour and Taehyung as the best man — the brunette giving you so much anxiety with his spontaneousness that you nearly wish it was Jimin who was the best man instead. But everything ends up without too many hitches or difficulties.   It’s hectic lives that you and Jungkook lead, but ones you love.   Ultimately, the pair of you get a townhouse together halfway between the suburbs and the city. You wind up running Kim’s Wedding Cake Company with Yuna many years down the line after Namjoon and Sejeong step down to retire. And Jungkook achieves his dream of becoming a chocolatier and ends up getting silver in The World Chocolate Masters competition.    The two of you have your first child together one drunken night when you both think it’s a good idea to have sex in your sacred spot — a professional kitchen. It’s the first and last time, swearing you’ll never do it again when you’re both on your hands and knees afterwards, sanitizing the entire area for fear of losing your jobs for the violation of health codes.    But you end up conceiving that night and it’s the first of many kids — rascals with sweet-tooths.   Life with Jungkook is a mundanity you could’ve only dreamed of. And you often count your blessings that you somehow ended with such a cheeky, lovable boy.

[Epilogue]   “And that’s how I met your grandmother.”   There’s a plump toddler sitting on his knee, slobbering as he babbles, and a slightly older girl sitting cross-legged in front of him on the carpet. She’s no more than five years old and blinks up at the old man with matching doe eyes.   “So a stupid man dumped grandma and then you came in and saved her?” she asks in a high-pitched voice.   “Essentially.” The old man nods and takes off his rounded spectacles to place on the small table beside his plush armchair. It’s his special seat for story time, placed under the picture frames of you and Jungkook over the decades, from your graduation to your wedding. “We were friends first and then started to date afterwards, but yes, it’s right to say I did save her.”   “Like a superhero?”   He grins and confirms, “Like a superhero. Now, do you know what the moral of the story is?”   His granddaughter shakes her head. “No. What is it?”   “The way to a person’s heart is through the stomach,” he declares with a smile. “If they like chocolate, you make sure you’re good at making chocolate. You like chocolate, right?”   “I like grandma’s cakes!” she exclaims much to his amusement.   “What nonsense are you telling her?” You’re leaning on the doorframe leading to the kitchen, sighing lightly as you shake your head with your arms crossed.   Your hair is slowly turning gray, but you’re still as attractive — if not even more so. Jungkook always mused how much more beautiful you got the more you learnt and experienced. And he likes the wrinkles around your eyes, even when you don’t. It reminds him of how many times he’s made you laugh over the years.   “Grandma!” Your granddaughter jumps up with a big grin that’s reminiscent of a bunny. She has big doe eyes that seem to sparkle in the afternoon light shedding into the cozy home. “Grandpa was just telling me how you guys met. He said he saved you. Is that true?”   “I saved him, dear.” You pat her head gently. “Without me, your grandpa would be hopeless.”   The older man at his armchair chuckles. “That is true.”   “It’s time for lunch, you three.”   You hold up your grandson and your granddaughter skips towards the kitchen.   Jungkook staggers upwards from his seat with weaker knees and muscles that feel exhausted to the bone. He’s still in rather good shape though for just turning sixty three two months ago. Even when you constantly worry about him, he can still play catch with the kids in the backyard and put them on his back without hurting it much.   When he comes into the kitchen, the two kids are in their seats and busy already digging in. His mug that says ‘Jungkook — World’s Best Chocolatier’ sits at the corner of the fruit place mat you bought at the thrift store. The letters of the mug are worn around the edges, handle chipped at the bottom, but it’s still his favourite.   But Jungkook doesn’t sit down to eat just yet.    He rounds the table and comes to the sink where you’re humming away. He leans his arms on the edge of the counter, standing right behind you and leans in as you turn your head.   Jungkook kisses your cheek. “I love you.”   You smile, the same one he fell in love with all those decades ago when you both were still young students who knew nothing about what was to come. “I love you too.”    Much to Jungkook’s contentment, you lean into him, filling his senses with your scent as you press a soft kiss to his lips. And it’s not bitter whatsoever.   It’s sweet.

[fandomsonrequests]

christmas with ateez (maknae line)

reader: gn!, m!, f!

notes: some cussing. read the hyung line >> here  happy holidays everyone!

san

It was Christmas morning and everyone knew what that meant— gift opening time. Well, it wasn’t actually morning, it was more like early afternoon. But you and San didn’t care, you weren’t going to be late for anything so why not sleep in for a while? Anyways, you both deserved it.

San was practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of being able to give you your gift. Yours on the other hand was wrapped up neatly and tucked away in your jeans pocket. You smile to yourself, trying not to give away your own excitement. 

You were pulled away from your own thoughts when you felt something large but light plop onto your lap, making Byeol (who was on your lap) scamper away by your feet instead. You gawk at the size of the gift, it was almost as big as your whole body. You stared up in pleasant surprise at San who only beamed at you, his cheeks flushed and dimpled. 

“Merry Christmas _____!” He greets you, and leans in to kiss you. It was full of teeth and smiled but neither of you minded. “Go on, open it.” 

You put the gift in between your legs and opened the wrapper carefully, letting out a gasp. A little backstory— you and San met at a plushie store, aiming for the same one before letting him take it in exchange for a coffee date the next week. You were both stuffed doll enthusiasts; so you were filled with joy and gratitude when you pulled out a rather large unicorn stuffed toy.

It was one you wanted when you passed by a plushie store but couldn’t get due to the lack of time. It was soft to the touch and silky, making you squeal in delight. “Oh my God, San— I love it!” You lunge at him, pressing kisses all over his face. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, laughing along with you. “I’m glad you like it, baby.” He muses. 

Now it was your turn to bring out your gifts. You pick up a small package from under the tree and call for Byeol. San raised a curious brow at you but said nothing, watching as the cat jumped onto your lap and purred when you started scratching behind her ear.

“How come she listens to you more than me?” He pouts when his cat basically bathes in your affection, making you giggle. 

You shrug, unsure of why she prefers to listen to you. “This is for the little cutie. I’ll give you yours after you open up hers.” You tell him, the grin never leaving your face.

Once again, your boyfriend gives you a curious look before opening the gift to see a cat-sized sweater perfect for Byeol. “Oh it’s so cute! Byeol look what they got you.” He cooed to the feline who pawed at the sweater curiously. You two struggled a little to put it onto her but manage to do so. The both of you give a successful cheer when she makes no move to remove it from her body. 

While San was distracted with taking photos of the cat, you stood up, pulling out a small box from your pocket. You knelt down in front of San and curled your throat, managing to get his attention. He turned to you with a puzzled look before it melted into one of shock after seeing the position you were in and the velvet box in your hand.

“_____,” He gasps, wide eyes glazing over with tears that were threatening to spill. 

“San,” You breathe out. 

“Yes, yes, yes, yes _______ I’ll marry you—“ He says, unable to hold back the tears while you laugh gently. 

“I haven’t even said anything yet..!” You protest playfully but move to slip the ring onto his finger. 

“Well either way I’d still say yes..!”

San takes a moment to admire the engagement ring, seeing the simple jewel on top of it glint from the afternoon sun. He practically throws himself onto you, crying happily into your shoulder before pulling away to give you a deep kiss. It was wet and salty— but you could feel the way he poured all his gratitude and love and passion into it. 

You reach up to brush away his tears, leaning your forehead against his. “I love you so much San.” 

“I love you more, _____.”

mingi

“Chunghee, Mingi— look at the camera!” You call over to your fiancé and your brother. 

The two boys turn their attention from their snowboards and sleds and towards the camera you had pointed at them. They strike a silly but cute pose, waiting for you to take the photo before asking you to take another one. You indulge in their request, snapping a few more photos before letting them do their thing. 

You, Mingi, and your younger brother decided to enjoy the snow for a bit. And what better way to do that than going to a ski resort? It was only for a few days but still- you were surprised, to say the least, when Mingi presented you with the confirmation email of your stay from the ski resort. 

“Alright bud, just don’t hesitate. It’s a lot like skateboarding— only on the snow.” You hear your fiancé tell Chunghee as he prepares to snowboard down a small hill. 

You beam at your brother and give him a good luck pat to his shoulder. “You got this. We believe in you.”

“Okay, yeah I got this. Easy peasy— no big deal.” 

Your brother inhales and takes a deep breath before pushing off and going down the hill. You and Mingi cheer excitedly when he manages to slide down without toppling over, the both of you jumping up and down. Your brother beamed up at the both of you, giving you two a thumbs up. 

“HELL YEAH CHUNGHEE!!” Mingi hollers, his grin so wide that his eyes turn into small crescents. He turns to you this time, his smile shifting into something more mischievous. 

You know what the smile means and you shake your head, backing up from the man. “Mingi, no—“

“I haven’t even said anything..!” He protests as he advances towards you. 

But before you could run, he lunges at you and pulls you right into his arms. He kisses your cheek before blowing a raspberry onto your skin, making you laugh. You try to wriggle out of his arms, arguing that Chunghee was waiting for him at the foot of the incline. But that doesn’t work because he was tugging you towards a rather large circular sled.

“Just this once, I’ll be behind you. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Mingi says, brushing away a bit of snow that fell to your hair. “Promise.” 

You glanced over to the sled with cheesy Christmas patterns painted onto the side. You hear Chunghee calling out for the both of you, particularly the way he was cheering you on. “C’mon, _____! If I can do it so can you!” 

“See? It’s no big deal.” Mingi adds as he was already settling into the back of the sled.

He pats the space in front of him, the dorky smile never leaving his face. You chew the inside of your cheek before relenting, releasing a defeated sigh. “Fine,” You whine as you settle into the spot in front of your fiancé. 

You immediately feel his arms wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to him. You settle your hand over one of his much larger ones, and squeeze them in gratitude. He starts to push the sled forward with his other hand before calling out to the teenage boy waiting for you. “Get ready to film their reaction!” He tells them. 

“Mingi wh-aAAAHHHH” Your sentence is interrupted as he launches off, the both of you sledding down the hill.

The wind rushes through your ears and you could feel the icy air brush past your face. You hear Mingi’s excited whoops and cheers as you descend. You on the other hand were yelling out of surprise and adrenaline. Sooner or later you reach the bottom of the hill where Chunghee was rushing to you, phone in hand. You couldn’t process what he was saying, the feeling of your heart beating out of your chest and the blood pumping filling your senses.

Your fiancé gently shook your shoulders, looking over at you. “You okay baby?” He asks you with a giggle. 

“Y-Yeah,” You reply as you stand on shaky legs. Your brother hugs you tight, telling you how he was proud of you for braving that hill. Mingi joined in a couple of moments later. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” The older male says as he pecks your cheek. “We’re so proud of you.”

“You wanna go again?” Chunghee asks. 

You look up at the top of the hill where you came from, seeing that the drop wasn’t as big as you thought it was. Your lips slowly form into a determined grin. “Alright, lets do this again.”

wooyoung

“Honey, no offense but what the fuckis that?” Wooyoung asks in slight horror when he sees your runny icing batter. 

You sigh in slight frustration and drop the large spoon into the bowl, wiping your hands on the apron around your waist. “I knew it, I knew something went wrong.”

Your boyfriend only chuckled, shaking his head. You see, the two of you thought it would be a great idea to bake a gingerbread house from scratch. Granted, you two got a fairly popular recipe from the internet but it’s the effort that counts. And for a while, things were going great. The gingerbread pieces came out alright and we’re cooling down on the trays.

It was the icing that was supposed to hold them that was the problem. Wooyoung was tasked with the cookie people and house pieces, as well as some other parts to add to it, while you were tasked with the icing. Unlike your boyfriend, you weren’t blessed with much skills in the kitchen. Which is why you left the cooking to him and you were stuck on cleanup duty.

“Okay baby boy don’t panic,” he tells you as he grabs some of the powdered sugar to add to the icing in order to thicken it. 

He looks up to see you by the side with a small pout on your lips, causing him to laugh and hug you. He nuzzled into your cheek when one of your arms came up to wrap around his waist, pressing a kiss to your jaw before leaning in to give you a proper one. “Don’t be sad, you actually did well for a first try.” He mumbles against your lips, pecking them one last time before pulling away completely to continue mixing the icing. 

“That’s a biased answer,” You argue as you clean up the kitchen counter, curiously poking at the gingerbread pieces. “You’re only saying that ‘cos you’re dating me.”

“What? No, no, no, I’m being genuine.” He refutes as he sets down the spoon once he was done mixing the icing. “Now help me dye this icing.”

You waddled over to him and nuzzled into his neck, hugging him from behind and placing a sweet kiss to his cheek. “What would I do without you..?”

“Burn this whole kitchen down probably,” He teases as he basks in your affection. He pulls you back towards him with his adorable high-pitched laugh when you throw him an unamused glare and detach yourself from him. “I’m kidding, don’t give me that look.”

He turns around and wraps his arms around your neck, your own going around his waist. He leaned his forehead against yours and nuzzled your nose with his. “I’m proud of you _____. Thank you for doing this with me.”

You couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that, closing the gap between you two for a short but sweet kiss. You grin into it, him doing the same, bursting into another bout of giggles when your fingers tickle his sides. He begs you to stop, saying that one of you could knock over the food, and successfully pries your wriggling digits away from him. 

“Come on, this gingerbread family needs a house built for them.”

jongho

“Areum, can you open the door please?” You call out to your teenage sister who was brooding on the couch, phone in hand.** **

She sighs heavily, irritation clear in her tone. You couldn’t really blame her- she did go through an ugly breakup this season. One that was done over the phone when she caught her boyfriend cheating on her with a good friend of yours. You tried your best as an older sister to get her cheered up. One of these attempts was calling your boyfriend Jongho over. The two practically adored each other, so hopefully being around each other would lift her spirits. 

Areum’s gloomy face brightened significantly when she saw her future brother-in-law(strike that) your boyfriend behind the door. “Hey,” She greeted him with a hug who reciprocated it. 

He ruffled her hair and stepped in when she allowed him in. “Why the long face, kiddo?” He asks. 

“Its Jack; he cheated on me with Winny _and _dumped me over the phone.” Areum sighs as she sits down on the couch beside him. 

You soon join the two on the couch as she pours her heart away to him. You’d occasionally provide some information, supporting your sister’s story. By the end of her story, tears were slowly trickling down her cheeks. Jongho reached up to gently brush them away, hand traveling down to her shoulder and offering a supportive squeeze. 

“What do you say that we put into the snow and get your mind off of it?” He suggested and looked over to you, eyes silently asking if it was okay. 

“That sounds like a good idea,” You add and nudge your sister with your elbow. “Wanna have a snowball fight? Us against Jongho?” 

The said man gave a whine of protest, successfully eliciting a soft chuckle from Areum. She sniffles and brushes away the rest of her tears. “Alright- get ready to lose big guy.” 

You told the pair to go on ahead, tossing Areum her gloves, coat, and scarf. Jongho makes small talk with her when he notices her suddenly stop mid-sentence and freeze. He saw that her haze was elsewhere and followed it all the way to a teenage boy with a girl on his arms. It didn’t take long for him to realize that the guy must’ve been her boyfriend. He looked back to Areum who had fresh tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

His heart clenched at the sight and a quiet rage was lit inside of him. Jongho leaned down to grab a fistful of snow, compacting it into a tight ball before catching your sister’s attention. “Hey Areum, watch this.” He smiles, a bit devilishly, before chucking the snowball towards the boy.

Splat. 

The snowball hits the poor kid straight in the face. This causes Areum to snort out in laughter. She decided to partake in the fun, allowing Jack and Winny’s momentary confusion to give her a chance to make a couple of snowballs, throwing it at the two of them. Sooner or later, you and Jongho were tossing a merciless volley of snowballs at the two, making them whine in protest. 

“C’mon man what the fuck???” Jack yelled in annoyance. 

“You’re lucky that’s all you get for messing with my baby sister!” Jongho yelled back and stepped aside to allow Areum to throw another ball at him.

You rush outside to see the commotion. The sight was funny, seeing the younger couple be hit relentlessly, but the pacifist in you told you that it was too much. “Okay, okay- you two they got the message.” You laugh as you stop them, looking back to the others to see them dusting the snow off their clothes. “God, you guys really let them have it.” 

You manage to calm the two down, steering them away from the cheaters when Jack called out. “Yeah that’s right- get your bitch ass sister to protect you..!” 

The insult makes you stop in your tracks, the cheery disposition dissipating. Without another word, Areum grins and hands you a snowball which you gladly took. And before Jack knew what had happened, you threw the ball right at him, hitting him directly in the face and causing him to fall back into the snow. Areum and Jongho let out an excited whoop. 

“You wanna say that again?!” You ask, moving to gather more balls.

Winny, being sensible enough, tugged Jack away before the three of you could chase them away. You three share a laugh, watching as the pair run away like cowards. Serves them right. 

“You ladies are deadly,” Jongho muses. 

Areum couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s why you’re so into my sister. That’s your type.” She chuckles. But before Jongho could quip back, she had already tossed a ball at him, followed by you throwing another one. 

He laughs, baring his cute gummy smile. “Alright- you two asked for it.” 

You and Areum squeal in delight as he chases the two of you around, volleys of snowballs being exchanged. Sure the day started off glum, but at least now it could end with joy paired with the warmth of hot chocolate that was soon to come.

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Let Them Eat Cake (Part iv)

Tonight, on The Great British Bake Off;

“This is thick as hell.”

Will our bakers melt, or melt down? Only time will tell - it’s chocolate week in the tent!

“I quite like your mouth.”

Remus stared at himself in the mirror. His mouth wasn’t that bad to be fair, but it was nothing next to Sirius’ own. I quite like your mouth, I quite like your mouth, I quite like -

“Remus? You ready?”

Remus shook himself. It was time to put all of this out of his head. “Yeah,” He called to Lily. “I’m coming.”

He left thoughts of Sirius in the hotel.

“This week,” Sirius announced, (looking ridiculously good in those skinny jeans Remus noticed), “Is possibly the best week.”

“Not being in any way subjective now, are you?” James quipped.

“Oi, you can’t say anything, last night you sang me a ballad about this week just last night.”

“Ah yes you’re right, I’ll sing it for everyone, shall I?” James took a deep breath, but before he could get the first note out, Sirius had covered his mouth.

“It’s chocolate week!” Sirius interrupted quickly, succeeding in making everyone laugh as usual. For our lovely first challenge, our judges would like you to make brownies.”

Remus already knew this of course, but he couldn’t help but sneak a little smile to Lily. They were practising all week, Lily even surprised Remus with a batch of gluten free when she had still been experimenting with her flavours. Salted caramel was sacred to Remus now.

Remus heard Sirius and James say the rules in the background, but he had tuned out a little. It was hard to stop his mind from wandering to Sirius when the man in question was standing right in front of him. His hair was in a top knot today. Fuck if Remus didn’t love his hair like that, Throughout the day, it would loosen a little and strands would fall in front of Sirius’ face and Remus would imagine what they would look like wrapped around his fingers-

Remus blinked. Not here. Now it was time to focus. Chocolate week would be his week.

“Ready?”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

Remus grabbed his ingredients and set to work.

Chocolate week was not his week.

Nothing was going quite to plan. He had burned the chocolate after leaving it in the bain marie a little too long - not so much that it required to be redone, but enough that Remus was annoyed at himself. He had misread his scales and added a little too much four and to top it off, he was pretty sure he had over-baked them.

“What are you making for us today?” The judges had asked when they had made their usual rounds at the start of the day. Remus had been calm and confident then. 

“Classic chocolate, just with walnuts added in.”

“Chopped, I assume?” Dumbledore said and Remus forced a smile on his face instead of rolling his eyes. 

“Of course.”

“I look forward to trying them.” McGonagall had said and then they had whisked themselves away, vanishing behind Remus to ask Lily some inane questions.

(Remus really didn’t mind the questions. He actually loved them - he had looked up to both judges all his life. Today was just, not his day).

Sirius turned up at his side, nabbing a spare square of chocolate and popping it into his mouth. Remus certainly didn’t think about chasing it with his lips. Nope, not at all.

“Hey Re.” Sirius greeted, as if the casual nickname didn’t just make Remus’ heart stutter. As if he hadn’t been flirting with Remus in this very spot not a week ago.

Remus hadn’t seen Sirius much since then which was pretty odd. The entire cast and crew mingled together on the non filming days and Sirius and James were infamous for showing up in the practice tent to try the bakers latest experiments. Only James had shown his face this week though. Remus hadn’t missed the way he always seemed to know when Lily was practicing, but that was another thing altogether.

He glanced up from where he was carefully piping chocolate designs on parchment paper to decorate the cakes when they were cool. “Hi.”

Sirius pulled out two mugs, ignoring Remus’ raised eyebrow and clicked the kettle. “Tea?”

“You’re taking over my work bench, are you?”

Sirius took his usual perch up on the counter as the tea brewed. “And what of it?”

Remus looked back down at what he was doing. He didn’t answer for a moment or two as he focused on a particularly intricate design, very aware of the way he stuck out his tongue when he was concentrating. “Haven’t seen much of you this week.”

Sirius hopped down to put milk and sugar in Remus’ mug, looking at Remus like he was a little mad. “I looked for you, but you’re a difficult man to pin down Remus Lupin.”

Remus felt his face flush as his mind flicked to how exactly he’s like to be pinned down by Sirius Black, but he swallowed weakly instead. “I was practicing mostly.”

Sirius nodded. “I know. I was there a few times but you were always absorbed in work for the showstopper so I didn’t want to bother you.”

Remus was relieved when his oven timer went off and he had an excuse to move away from Sirius for a moment. 

“You wouldn’t have bothered me.” He said as soon as he had transferred the contents of his tin onto a wire rack.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but just then a microphone appeared over their heads, a cameraman right behind it.

“Feeling good about today?” Sirius asked pleasantly as if their previous conversation had never even existed. Remus’ smile felt tight. 

“I have absolutely no idea.” He breathed. He wasn’t just talking about the cakes.

Remus pursed his lips when he realised he was being judged last today. It wasn’t so bad, Remus just liked to get it over with as soon as possible. He was only partially satisfied with his brownies, but there was a lot more that could have gone wrong so Remus chose to try to maintain a slightly positive attitude. 

Peter’s brownies were a smash hit, Tonks’ didn’t look the neatest but apparently tasted fantastic. Lily’s blew them away. Remus didn’t hide his grin - he was just glad he had technically been the first to taste her recipe.

“They’re quite cake-like.” McGonagall commented, coming to a stop in front of Remus’ bench. Remus didn’t say anything, just pursed his lips.

“Flavours are good, the walnuts add a nice crunch.” Dumbledore said, munching away. “But one of the main features of brownies is that they’re soft, fudgey, even a little gooey.”

Dumbledore met Remus’ eyes. “These are good cakes, but the key word is they’re cakes, not brownies.”

Remus nodded, his jaw clenching. He closed his eyes in annoyance when they finally turned away. He knew he had over baked them. Fucking Sirius Black.

(Okay so Sirius wasn’t actually the cause of this particular problem but… Remus was a sucker for consistency).

He collapsed in a chair for lunch feeling the tension bleeding out of his muscles.

“Hey Re.” Tonks chuckled and Remus just cracked one eye open to peek at her.

For once, he was the last to the table, even James and Sirius seated before him. He sat up and dug into his pasta, unable to stop himself from actually groaning when he ate it.

“Sorry but, it’s so good. Also I’m really hungry so that helps, but wow I’m going to need this recipe.”

He didn’t miss the way Sirius eyed him the rest of the way through lunch, or the smug little looks coming from Lily either. So maybe Remus had been a little blind to how Sirius had been looking at him before, but this week he was finally wide awake.

He took a moment to pop onto Bake Off Twitter to see what they were saying this week. There were even more gifs of him blushing, Sirius looking at him and one really great picture of the two of them laughing. There were other things too of course, the other contestants' opinions on last week's episode but Remus couldn’t help but notice he was one of the most popular topics.

His mindless scrolling was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

“Ooh, someone’s popular!” James teased and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Hi Ma,” He greeted, looking pointedly at James and sticking out his tongue.

“Hi sweetheart, how’s it going.?”

Remus began to move away so everyone else could continue their conversation but Lily swatted his wrist.

“I wanna say hi to Hope!”

“Yeah Remus! Don’t be rude!” Tonks chimed in and Remus rolled his eyes. 

“Mam, I’m gonna put you on speaker, the lads want to say hi.” He said, pulling the phone away from his ear.

“Hi Hope!” Lily said, everyone else joining in, a clamour of voices drowning out Remus’ laugh.

“Hi loves!” Hope said, Remus knowing she was having the time of her life. These people were like celebrities to her. “How’re you all doing?”

“Much better now that we get to chat to you.” Sirius charmed and Remus could practically see his mother blushing back in their kitchen at home. They all chatted for a little while longer before they had to get back to work.

“Hey mam, we’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you later, yeah?”

“Alright darling, I’ll chat to you soon. Good luck.”

“Bye mam, love you.”

Remus hung up biting his lip. “So that was my mom.”

“Really, you don’t say.” Tonks quipped.

“She’s my new best friend.” Lily sighed wistfully, sinking back into her chair.

“What does that make me?2 Remus asked. “A brick wall?”

Lily quirked an eyebrow. “I thought we were meant to be friends Re, but now I see we were just introduced so that I could get to know your mother. She was my destiny all along.”

“That’s not at all dramatic.” Remus deadpanned and they all started to move, getting up and ready for the next round of filming.

Sirius had been giving him a strange look towards the end of the phone call but when Remus met his eyes, he blinked once and it was gone. Remus wandered back into the tent with Lily and Tonks, debating if Tonks should dye her hair again (Pink: outdated or iconic?) but the only colour Remus could think about was grey.

“For this challenge,” James said as soon as the cameras had recommenced recording, “Our judges have asked you to make a white chocolate and raspberry tart.”

“Everything you need is under the cloth in front of you,” Sirius continued. “Judges, do you have anything you’d like to say?”

“Read the instructions carefully.” McGonagall said, her face blank. Remus blinked.

“Well, they never would have guessed that!” Sirius said cheekily and Remus had to bite down his laugh.

“On your marks,”

“Get set,”

“Bake!”

Remus pulled back the gingham cloth, eyeing the fewer-than-usual set of ingredients. He picked up the sheet with instructions, found it vague as usual but it didn’t seem overly complicated.

“Am I allowed to say white chocolate isn’t real chocolate?” Sirius asked, gliding up to Remus’ bench, cameras in tow.

“I was wondering how long it would be before someone started that debate!” Lily chimed in. “We had a bet going, I won so thanks for that.”

Remus looked at Sirius accusingly. “You couldn't have waited ten more minutes?”

Sirius laughed to himself as he wandered away to talk to everyone and Remus set to work. They wanted a digestive base, so after weighing out the right amount, Remus grabbed a rolling pin and set to work smashing the biscuits.

“You know, you could just use a blender.” Lily called over the thrum of her own machine. Remus made a face at her.

“Yeah, but this is way more cathartic.” He countered.

“Got some tension you need to relieve?” Tonks teased and Remus was suddenly really glad Sirius was on the other side of the tent.

He put his most innocent smile on his face, looked her right in the eyes and flipped her off. Lily and Tonks burst into a laughing fit. Marlene just sighed and looked at Remus a little hopelessly.

“One of these days Remus, I won’t have to edit every shot you’re in.”

Remus just shot her a cheeky wink. “Keep dreaming Marlene.”

Remus scrunched up his nose as he tried to pour the chocolate into the tin. He had placed the raspberries so that they covered the base of the pastry and now all he had to do was add the chocolate and pop it all in the fridge to set. But the chocolate mixture was a lot thicker than he had anticipated. 

“Fuck…” He breathed, drawing out the word as he tried to even it out with a spatula, only succeeding in moving the berries around and messing up the distribution.

“You alright?” Lily asked.

Remus glanced back, shooting her a smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. This is just thick as hell.”

“White chocolate’s a bitch like that.” Lily agreed.

“Seriously?” Marlene exclaimed. “Now you too Lily? I’m firing both of you.”

Remus laughed and handed her a spare piece of chocolate. “Sorry Marlene.”

Marlene rolled her eyes but smiled. “I hate you.”

Remus blew her a kiss. “Love you too!”

He bit his lip and evened out the top of his tart before putting it into the fridge so it had as long as possible to set.

“And now we wait.”

They set their tarts behind their pictures, Peter being ridiculously cautious, looking around himself before he made any movements. Remus appreciated it, but found it hilarious all the same.

 He sat on the stool as the judges came out with a familiarity that was new. He liked it. He had watched the show for as long as it had been on air, watching it gave him the same feeling you might get when curling up under a blanket and a good book when it’s pouring rain outside. He liked being comfortable on the show now too.

The judges came out, Remus’ tart right in the centre of the table. 

“This one looks quite good,” McGonagall said as she cut a slice, “But there doesn’t seem to be as many raspberries as I would have hoped.”

Remus bit his lip. She had snagged a slice from a section all the berries had been disrupted. Fucking white chocolate.

“Everything else however, is lovely.” Dumbledore said and Remus breathed easy, it wasn’t the worst one, not by far. A tart belonging to a woman named Susan hadn’t even set properly. Remus wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up going home tomorrow, she had certainly lost the technical and from what Remus remembered, she hadn’t done too well in the first challenge either.

Kingsley won the technical, smiling at everyone congratulating him. Remus liked Kingsley a lot, the other man was quiet, so he didn’t know him too well but any interaction they’d had was always pleasant.

The camera’s stopped rolling and everyone filed over to the table to grab themselves a slice of the best tarts. Remus noticed Sirius hanging back for once, so he sidled up next to him.

“Not a fan?” He asked. Sirius shook his head.

“Nah, white chocolate is much too sweet for me.”

“Right,” Remus said, tilting his head. “You don’t even take sugar in your tea.”

Sirius bit his lip and took his time replying. “There’s only so many sweet things I can handle,” He said, leaning in closer to Remus, who mirrored his movements on instinct. “And you fill that quota completely.”

Remus stood there frozen as Sirius smiled at him before leaving the tent. Lily came up next to him, a plate in hand.

“Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Oh it’s so much worse than that.”

“What happened?” She asked, concerned. 

“Sirius Black is flirting with me.” He half whispered. “And I’m so completely and utterly fucked.”

Lily smirked and bumped her hip against Remus’. “More like you will be completely and utterly fucked.”

“Lily!”

The noise escaping Lily in response could only be described as a cackle. Remus lay awake half the night replaying Sirius’ words over and over in his head. He was so screwed.

“Welcome back!” James began, “It’s time for our showstopper challenge!”

“This week,” Sirius said, “Our judges want you to create a 3D chocolate structure.”

Remus bit his lip. He had practiced. A lot. But this would still be a challenge.

“Your creation should be entirely edible and entirely chocolate. As usual, you have four and a half hours. Ready?”

“Set.”

“Bake!”

Remus set off, faster than he had for the last few challenges. He could do this, but he needed time. He immediately set out breaking up chocolate to melt, two rectangular silicone moulds ready to go. He poured an equal amount of milk chocolate into each and made sure they were spread evenly before putting them in the fridge.

“Damn Re, that was fast.” Lily commented, still filling her mould.

“That’s not what he said.” Remus retorted with a wink and Lily snorted behind him.

Remus kept melting chocolate, white was next on his agenda. When it was melted, he added a couple of drops of orange essence and mixed it in. He spread it quite thinly over two large trays, wishing it had been this co-operative in the previous challenge, and put them in the fridge too.

“Hey,” Sirius said softly, arriving at his station. Remus broke off a piece of dark chocolate and offered it out to him.

“This is your favourite type I’m guessing?”

Sirius blushed. It was fun to see Remus wasn’t the only one who could do that. 

“Yeah,” He said, his voice low. “Yeah it is, thanks.”

Remus took out a clean bowl and started breaking pieces of dark chocolate into it. “Everything okay?”

Sirius frowned. “Does something have to be wrong for me to be here?”

Remus shook his head quickly. “No! I mean, no. I just meant…” He glanced around the room and saw no microphone close enough to capture their conversation but cameras were panning the room. He kept his eyes on his work and his voice hushed. “Well, you know what I meant.”

“Yeah,” Sirius fiddled with a tea towel he found on Remus’ counter. “Can we talk? Later?”

Remus nodded. “I’d like that.”

Sirius smiled at him and moved away, walking around to the rest of the room. Remus took a shaky breath. He would talk to Sirius later. He straightened his shoulders and set his jaw, he would be calm about this. He could obsess about it later. Right now? He had a big ass chocolate sculpture to make.

“Bakers, you have thirty minutes left!” James announced a while later and Remus shared a mildly panicked look with Lily. He took his many many trays of chocolate out of the fridge and set to work assembling his piece. He measured the white chocolate and cut precise, identical rectangles, biting his lip as he prayed the chocolate wouldn’t snap. It would appear luck was on his side today because it all cut cleanly. He sighed in relief and set up the flat stand it would be displayed on. He filled his piping bag with dark chocolate and unfolded the page of notes he had brought in with him that day and began writing on the white chocolate slabs.

“Bakers! Please step away from your benches!”

Remus fiddled with his hands as he stepped away, looking at his creation. It was… It was fucking perfect is what it was.

Lily presented first, a gorgeous goldfish made of chocolate and sprayed with edible paint. Lily had even carved the scales into the surface, Remus was blown away by the amount of detail in it.

Tonks had made a little castle - two towers and a main building, it was ridiculously charming, Remus wished he could live there. 

Remus walked up with his and stood back so he could look at it too. It was a book - Pride and Prejudice to be exact, standing up and cracked a little open so some pages were on display. Pages on which Remus had written the exact text from the book, the cover based off the hardback edition Remus had at home.

“I must say Mr Lupin,” McGonagall said, “As a big Jane Austen fan, I’m quite charmed by this.”

She broke away a ‘page’ and popped a piece in her mouth. “The orange flavouring is a lovely touch.”

Dumbledore broke off a piece from the back cover and nodded in agreement. “Very good, I’m quite impressed.”

Remus beamed at them and returned to his bench. He was so unbelievably glad they liked it, if they hadn’t well, he might have actually cried.

Sirius caught his eye and smiled at him. Remus smiled back.

They sat in a row once more a little while later, but Remus wasn’t afraid. He hadn’t done as well as he might have liked yesterday, but he still wasn’t bad. And he had done quite well today. He was pretty sure he was safe for today. 

As he suspected, Susan went home. Tonks won star baker and Remus had the rare opportunity of getting to try the other baker’s work since it was all made purely of chocolate.

“Take a walk with me?” Sirius asked after a little while, the euphoria of another week done fading and the remaining contestants beginning to trickle back to the hotel. Remus nodded and sent Lily a quick text and then he followed Sirius out of the tent and away from the cameras and microphones and contestants.

And then it was just the two of them.

[chubbyhl]

Vault Fic #2 - The First Stuffing

Hi all -- my girlfriend suggested I post another installment of the “vault fic” aka the feedee Louis fic I started writing a year ago and never finished or showed anyone, but people seem to dig it now. I got some suggestions from awhile back to post more content from it, and people seemed to really like the idea of Louis’s first stuffing, so here you are! A nice long one. Happy Chubby Friday, and enjoy! Please note - this is a feederism centric fic. It won’t be for everyone. Also contains some unrealistic eating for entertainment purposes, don’t try this at home lol. 

-

“I forgot if you put this on your list, but this one my favorite recipes to make,” Harry said. He pulled on two oven mitts and then kneeled down, grabbing the hot dish and pulling it out. He set it on the stove and then closed up the oven, waving to the dish, “It’s five cheese baked mac and cheese. I put a bit of everything in it. White cheddar, sharp cheddar, parmesan, asiago, Swiss…and then some bacon bits, because why not.”

“Oh, that sounds so good,” Louis said, “Probably good I’ll have leftovers of that, too.”

Harry just looked at him, and then smiled, shaking his head.

“Oh, no no,” he said, “This is all for tonight.”

Louis blinked at him.

“Harry, you can’t be serious,” Louis said, “That thing could feed a family of eight.”

“That’s exactly the serving size, yes,” Harry said. He took off his gloves and waved at the dish, “Give it a minute to cool off and then we can start.”

“Harry,” Louis said, “You – you can’t expect me to eat all of that.”

“Well,” Harry shrugged, “I mean, I’ll take you having half at this point. But at some point, I’m going to make this and you’ll definitely have all of it.”

Harry kept moving around the kitchen, getting out dishes and some glasses, and Louis kept staring at the dish of macaroni. What had sounded so delicious a few minutes now loomed in front of him like his personal white whale, something Harry was expecting him to finish. Or at least, finish half of it, when Louis wasn’t even sure he could finish half a regular serving size.

Harry turned around and caught him staring, and smiled softly and came over. He tucked Louis’s cheek into his hand and kisses his forehead.

“How are we feeling?”

“Like you’re fucking with me,” Louis said, “You said today would be easy.”

“Yes, and most of today has been,” Harry said. He held up a hand, ticking down his fingers as he started a list, “Breakfast, just a bowl of cereal. A large bowl, but that’s it. Then some apple and Nutella, then a couple chicken sandwiches, and then a bagel with peanut butter. And lots of Coke.”

“Thank you for reminding me,” Louis grumbled.

“Hey, hey, that’s all easy stuff,” Harry teased, “You didn’t expect me to not spoil you at least a little today, did you?”

Louis wrapped his hands around himself, looking down. He swallowed weakly, and Harry tucked a hand under his chin and lifted him to look at him.

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” Harry said, “Seriously, just eat what you think you can. But I would be very, very happy if you had half this dish. Like, you have no idea how thrilled I would be.”

Louis glanced at the dish of the pasta again, and then back at Harry. The other man was looking at him firmly, but his eyes were wide and kind, and Louis tried to remember why he was here in the first place. The Kink, yes, but also, he liked Harry. Harry was funny and sweet and cared about him. He wasn’t going to push Louis too far past his boundaries. He would be fine.

So eventually Louis nodded and murmured out “okay,” and Harry grinned and kissed him again before going to grab everything and set it on the kitchen.

Louis sat at the table, right next to Harry’s own seat. Harry poured him a tall glass of water, and then pulled the casserole dish a bit closer to the two of them. He had laid a big spoon next to the dish, and picked it up, glancing at Louis.

“Want me to feed you?” Harry asked, “Not going to lie, I’ve been dying to do that all day.”

“Yeah,” Louis said quickly, “Sure.”

Harry smiled, and then dipped into the dish. The spoon cracked past the crispy layer of baked cheese and breadcrumbs at the top, and Louis licked his lips, which made Harry smile.

“Hungry?”

“I could eat,” Louis said. He was only a bit hungry, maybe enough for a snack, at most, because he’d been eating for a lot of the day. But he could still eat, so he was going to.

Harry grinned, and then picked up the spoon, loaded down with pasta and cheese.

“Okay, open up,” Harry said, and then softened when Louis did so, “Good boy.”

Louis flushed in spite of himself, and let Harry tuck the spoon into his mouth. He chewed, closing his eyes as he tasted it. It was creamy and so, so rich, and he hummed happily as he ate it.

“Wow, oh, man,” he said once he had swallowed, “That’s so good, holy shit.”

“Thanks,” Harry grinned, “I’ve made this more times than I can count and I haven’t gotten any complaints yet.”

“You making your mac n cheese for other boys?” Louis asked as Harry got another spoonful ready.

“That’s funny,” Harry said flatly, “Open up.”

Louis did, letting Harry give him another delicious spoonful. This would be no problem, he thought. The food was so good, surely he was hungrier than he originally thought.

Harry kept tucking pasta into his mouth, smiling at each bite Louis took.

“Doing good, love,” Harry said, “Still taste good?”

Louis nodded and smiled, letting Harry feed him. He took sips of water in between, enough to help him swallow but not enough to get him too full. Harry looked far too pleased with himself as he fed the other man, his movements as steady as his encouragement.

And then, he hit his first wall.

With a quick glance at the dish, he could tell he had only had about a regular serving and a half of the dish, and he was already full. Like, very full. Like he was having trouble chewing the mouthful Harry had just given him.

The other man watched, carefully, and frowned when Louis swallowed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and Louis shrugged.

“I – I’m full, s’all,” Louis said.

“Ah,” Harry nodded, “I see.”

He set down the spoon and nodded towards Louis.

“Lift up your shirt, pet.”

“Um,” Louis said, “What?”

“Lift up your shirt,” Harry repeated, his voice growing a bit firmer. Louis swallowed weakly, and then did what Harry asked and lifted up the hem of his t-shirt.

When he glanced down his stomach was a bit rounded, mostly bloated-looking more than anything. Harry reached out and tugged down the hem of Louis’s sweatpants, under the curve of his stomach. Then he put his hands on the warm skin of Louis’s belly and started rubbing, pressing in firmly. Louis groaned, hiccupping weakly as Harry put pressure on his full belly. Harry just watched him, and kept rubbing, then hooked his thumb into Louis’s belly button and held the curve of his stomach with the rest of his finger and gave his belly a firm jiggle. Louis gasped weakly and then covered his mouth with his hands, trying to stifle a burp working its way through his throat. Harry rubbed his stomach harder and then gave it a gentle pat.

“Any better?” he asked, and Louis blinked at him.

“Uh,” he said, “Maybe.”

“Okay, good,” Harry said, “You let me know if you feel a bit full again.”

Louis just stared at him, but Harry was already gearing up another spoonful. Louis ate it, and he felt like he could swallow with far less difficulty. And he felt fine through another spoonful, and then another.

He hit another wall when they were a fourth of the way through the dish, and once again, Harry went back to rubbing and jiggling his tight belly, which was now rounder and tighter. To Harry’s credit, he was handling it all like a true professional, even though Louis could see his eyes getting darker and wider. He kept digging into the dish, and Louis kept eating it, like another force had taken hold of him. His stomach was screaming at him, bloated and stretched far beyond capacity, but the pasta was so good, and Harry was calling him a good boy as he shoveled food into Louis’s mouth, so he kept going.

He finally, finally hit his final wall when he was nearly into the fifth serving of the dish, and he clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.

“Harry, I can’t,” he panted. He was hot now, and sweating, and his stomach was in pain, and he just couldn’t keep it up.

“Okay, lovey,” Harry said, “Just one more bite? Please? Would make me so happy.”

“I – “ Louis choked out, “I dunno.”

“Come on,” Harry teased, wiggling the full spoon in front of him, “For me?”

“God, fuck you,” Louis breathed out, but even then, he opened his mouth. He accepted the food, and then chewed and swallowed with more effort than he had ever put into anything before, and then when he was done, he leaned back in his chair and cradled his belly delicately. It felt rock hard, and it was stretched, pressing out in a generous curve that stretched out the outline of his abs. Louis stifled another burp and held his hands in front of his mouth, his face turning red.

“Jesus,” he breathed out, “Oh my God.”

Harry leaned forward in his chair, his eyes dark but his smile sweet, and he reached out and put his hands on Louis’s distended stomach.

“Oh, what a good boy,” he cooed, “What a perfect, perfect boy you are.”

He rubbed Louis’s stomach carefully, pushing hard to make Louis hiccup and then just skimming his hands over the curve, touching and enjoying.

“Oh, Louis, we’re going to have so much fun,” he sighed happily. Louis just hiccupped again.

“I need to lay down,” he got out weakly.

“Of course you do,” Harry said quickly, “C’mon, I’ll get you up, and then I’ll give you another nice rub down. Does that sound good?”

Louis just gave Harry a nod, and then the other man was on his feet, helping pull Louis up. Instinctively, Louis’s hands went to his full, bloated stomach, and he whined, but Harry just held him, kissed the back of his head.

“Let’s get you to the couch. Good boy. Come on,” he said, “You ate what I made you so well, you deserve some rest.”

Louis’s eyelids were already drooping, the food in his belly making him sleepy, so he just nodded and let Harry guide him.

[tomhiddlestonfanfic]

Thanksgiving

CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: One shot WHICH TOM CHARACTER: Actor Tom PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston/Reader REQUEST: Tom hears the reader yelling and cursing trying to make her first thanksgiving dinner. Tom knocks on her door to make sure that no ones hurt and finds her broken down cause nothings coming out right.

Thanksgiving

For the first time in your life you were going to cook an actual Thanksgiving dinner. You had it all planned out so nicely with recipes you had gotten from a friend’s grandmother and now all the ingredients were laid out in front of you. You tried not to feel overwhelmed by all the work you had ahead of you. You repeatedly told yourself ‘how hard can it be?’ like a mantra. You just had to follow the recipes, right? It would be a piece of cake if you only put your mind to it.

It wasn’t a piece of cake. You came to terms with that just a few minutes in when you managed to drop the damn turkey on the floor. You groaned and rinsed it off to the best of your ability, but still tried to stay brave throughout the process of preparing the meal. Nothing went right from there. The stuffing took ages to make and you nearly chopped your finger off while chopping the vegetables. The knife luckily just cut through your fingernail and a little bit into your fingertip, but it bled a lot before you managed to get it cleaned and put a bandaid on it. When it was finally time to stuff the turkey, the damn cadaver ended up on the floor for the second time. You took a deep breath to calm yourself down as you felt the rage build up inside of you.

You rinsed the turkey off for the second time and rather unmildly forced the stuffing into the hole with a gloved hand. You soundly slapped the turkey before finally putting it in the oven. You had four hours of preparing the other foods before you had to take the turkey out. 

You went ahead to start with the gravy, which apparently also had a very long cooking time. You sighed repeatedly as you chopped yet another onion, your eyes watering up so much that you could hardly see the knife in your hand. Determined not to cut yourself again, you were extra careful, which made it take longer before you were done chopping. The extra time caused even more frustration as you looked on the clock. When it was time to put some garlic into the gravy, you nearly dropped it on the floor, but you managed to catch it midair at the expense of your head which slammed into the kitchen worktop. You gasped in pain and grabbed a package of frozen peas to ease the throbbing ache in your forehead.

That’s when things went downhill, even more so than before. You felt the smell of something burnt. It was the God forsaken turkey. You had accidentally put the oven on maximum effect you realised once you glanced in that direction and saw the smoke. You instinctively opened the oven and took the baking sheet out with an oven mitt. But the sheet got too hot anyway, so you dropped the entire thing on the floor. On top of it all, the smoke alarm went off, and you could see from the corner of your eye that the gravy was boiling over.

“Fucking hell! I hate you!” you shouted at the darkened piece of turkey lying on the floor. It truly had defeated you. You didn’t even want to try to save it anymore, just destroy it like it had destroyed you. You removed the saucepan from the stove, before deciding to deal with the beeping smoke alarm. You angrily grabbed a broom and hit it several times before it finally fell to the floor and grew silent. You proceeded to hit the turkey with the broom as you shouted in despair at how it had ruined your entire Thanksgiving.

You were interrupted in your combat against the dead piece of meat on the floor by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Biting your lip in embarrassment at your own childish behaviour, you dropped the broomstick and proceeded to answer the door. You couldn’t exactly ignore the doorbell after all the noise you had just produced.

Before you stood a tall handsome man with his brown curly hair brushed back. His blue eyes were filled with concern as he looked at you. Your heart nearly stopped as your brain processed who it was. You knew this man! Or rather, you knew of him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked concernedly and you felt your eyes watering up. It was really him, Tom Hiddleston himself, standing there asking if you were alright.

“No, I’m not,” you told him truthfully.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asked and you couldn’t help but nod in response. Someone had hurt you, emotionally.

“Who? Is he still here?” Tom asked and glanced over your shoulder, into the apartment.

“I’m not sure if it’s a he or a she,” you respond honestly. “But he or she is on the floor in the kitchen.”

“Is the person unconscious?” he wondered as he pulled out his phone, presumably to call the police.

“It’s dead,” you replied and put your hands on top of his hands to stop him from calling the police.

“Dead?!” he questioned, his mouth falling open with surprise. “You killed someone in self-defense?”

“It was already dead when it got here,” you assured him, stepping aside to let him in.

“It?” he asked confusedly. “I’m sorry Miss, but you’re not making any sense. Perhaps you’re in shock. You should probably sit down.”

“I should probably just show you,” you said, feeling a bit bad for letting him think there was a dead human body inside your apartment. You entered the kitchen together and he frowned at the mess in there.

“Is this where you were fighting?” he asked and you nodded in response.

“This is where it went down,” you replied solemnly.

“And where is the body?” Tom asked seriously.

“Right there,” you said and pointed to what was left of the turkey on the floor. “Like I said, it was dead when it got here.”

“I don’t quite understand what happened here. Who hit you?” Tom asked confusedly.

“Oh no, nobody hit me. I’m so sorry for giving you that impression,” you apologised, your eyes watering up again, but this time not from cutting onions. What had you been thinking, letting him think you had actually gone through a physical fight with someone?

“Then what happened here?” he wondered, biting his lip slightly to suppress a smile.

“I’m never, ever cooking a Thanksgiving meal ever again, that’s for sure,” you told him.

“But why are you hurt if you didn’t fight anyone?” Tom asked inquiringly, seemingly trying to make sense of it all.

“I’m hurt?” you asked confusedly.

“You should probably take a look in the mirror,” Tom suggested.

You went to look in the mirror and grimaced at the sight of yourself. Your face was a mess. You had managed to get some soot underneath your eye, making it look like you had a black eye. In your forehead there was a swelling and a bruise from when you hit your head on the worktop.

“Oh,” you uttered at the sight of yourself and suddenly felt mortified for letting Tom see you like this. “I really need to wash up,” you said, all of a sudden feeling very emotional as you looked at the mess in your kitchen.

“I will help you clean up,” Tom offered kindly.

“Really?” you asked incredulously.

“Of course, I’ll be happy to. It’s not everyday you meet a woman so beaten down by a Thanksgiving dinner. I figure you could use a helping hand,” he told you. You laughed and cried at the same time at his words. You truly had been beaten down by the Thanksgiving dinner you had been so dead set on making.

“Thank you so much,” you cried. “Sorry for crying.”

“Come here,” Tom offered and embraced you. You hugged him back, thinking briefly about how you were probably messing up his nice shirt with soot from your face. Then you smiled. Tom had with his mere presence managed to turn this into the best Thanksgiving ever.

[queen-ofsunflowers]

Make Every Moment Last - Chapter 21 Preview

Reap What You Sow

Things had cooled down a bit since the eventful full moon night. Things were… still a bit awkward between the pairs that had gotten trapped together, but at least everyone stopped blushing when they looked at each other.

At least something as simple as cooking dinner with Fuuka wasn’t as much of a pain in the ass as those two Shadows had been. Seriously, the first one muddled up his head and tried to make him relive that, while the second… A shiver ran up Minato’s spine as he thought about it. He was lucky to be able to break out of the spell’s hold the way that he did. Otherwise… yeah, he didn’t want to think about it.

He glanced over at Fuuka beside him, who was biting down on her nails so hard that he was afraid she was going to tear them off.

“Fuuka,” said Minato, stopping the fae girl before she could immediately jump into the task at hand. “Are you okay?”

“Oh,” said Fuuka, looking down at the countertop. “Sorry.” That… wasn’t even an answer to what he had asked.

“Stop apologizing.” There really was no need for her to. And honestly, it was starting to get a bit repetitive.

“Sor— … uh… “

Minato sighed, running a hand through his bangs. “You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to.”

“I do! It’s just that I keep messing up…” Well, that was pretty obvious, wasn’t it? “It’s not a problem with how I made the recipe… How do I put this…? While I’m making it, I start thinking that it’s not going to come out right anyway…”

“And then you get in your own head and everything starts getting fucked up,” Minato finished for her.

“I wouldn’t put it like that but…” Fuuka shrugged. “I’m always like that. It’s like, I’m bad at imagining things in a positive way… I keep imagining that nothing is going to go right… If only there was something I was actually good at…”

“You’re getting better with magic. And you’re pretty good with machines.” Fuuka looked over at him, her eyes going wide. “...what?”

“I’m surprised you remembered that.” Minato shrugged.

“Be amazed by my power of memory.” It worked when it wanted to, mostly helping Minato remember the finer details of things rather than some things that he needed at the time.

“Technology is just something that I like, Minato-kun,” said Fuuka, still making a point not to look at Minato at all. Was she seriously that embarrassed about it? “It’s not something that I can be proud of.”

“Does that really matter?” Fuuka said nothing, which made Minato wonder if it did matter. At least to her, it did. “...how’d you get so good with them anyway?”

Fuuka sighed. “When I was young, it was my dad’s hobby to work on complicated music equipment. He’d fix things like broken amplifiers and headphones where one side would be broken. I loved watching him working on those things when I was little… That’s… probably why.” She crossed her arms, rubbing them in an attempt to comfort herself. “But, I don’t think I could use machines to repay everyone’s kindness… When we really need help with fighting or technology, we have the Kirijo Group’s support… I want to find something that only I can do… Something that people would rely on me for…”

“Aside from guidance?” Minato guessed. Fuuka nodded. “You’ll find it eventually. You just have to keep looking. Come on. Let me help, alright? Otherwise we’re going to be here all night.”

Fuuka nodded again. “Right,” she said and the duo got to work.

All in all, things became easier once Minato lent his helping hand. Though, things being cleaner… yeah, that was a pipe dream. By the time everything was said and done with, the duo were covered in flour. Minato wasn’t even sure how the hell that happened.

Through all of that bout of chaos, he still somehow managed to defend the dough from all of Fuuka’s attempts to deviate from the recipe that they were using. He understood that improvising worked sometimes, but all that she was doing… It was a miracle that their baking came out alright at all.

“It came out right,” said Fuuka with an elated giggle. “That’s amazing, it came out right. It wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t here… But it actually came out right!”

“I was the ultimate supervisor,” said Minato with a deadpan that made Fuuka giggle. In all honesty? He was a bit relieved that finally something about this little project had turned out well.

The full chapter will be up on Ao3 on January 8!